DISAPPOINTING MARTYRS
by Jillian W
Summary: STORY 2: Knives is alone on Gunsmoke with the liberated plants; the humans, Vash, and Vash's budding family are headed for Earth...So, shouldn't things be wonderful?
1. CHAPTER ONE: Hello, Future

This follows fanfic "To Save Everyone" (itself a rewrite of 'you want to save them all'), but can most likely be understood without reading previous story.

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CHAPTER ONE: HELLO, FUTURE

_PART ONE…Silence Falls Upon the Sand…_

No human remained on Gunsmoke. All had been whisked away by rescue ships from Earth, to vacate the sandy Hell known as planet Gunsmoke.

Only the few hundreds that populated the last flying SEEDS ship knew of the rescue ships' advent; just them, two insurance girls, and three sentient plants. A heady drama played out from the time of the Earth's first successful transmission to the day of the rescue ships' arrival, a crisis in which only the five persons participated. Their troubles were completely unknown to the thousands of unaware residents of Gunsmoke, who attributed the massacres to the evil son and daughter of Vash the Stampede. Little did they know that it was not Vash's son but his brother who had caused the atrocities and that, at the time, Vash was a father to no one.

Since admission into the ships was heavily secured, a communal sigh of relief was loosed when they left the planet, assuming they'd finally rid themselves of both Vash and his accursed family.

Nevertheless, both Vash and his new family boarded. Only the most dangerous and bitter plant child remained on Gunsmoke, to tend to the now-abandoned, captive plants. This violent objector suddenly found himself without conflict, without conversation, without love.

Knives knew he was truly alone then. Ordinarily, he would think himself lucky to be rid of that wretched human race – finally being able to free his brethren from indignant slavery.

Despite this epic milestone in plant history, he cast not even a glance over his shoulder as those graceful, metallic monstrosities exited Gunsmoke's atmosphere. At the time, he was still reeling from the news.

Vash and Vanessa had created the first second-generation plant child. Vanessa said they would name it…her…Tessla.

Certainly no more than a tiny, delicate constellation of fetal tissue at the time, Tessla meant more for the future of both human and plant races alike than perhaps any individual ever. She was the key to saving both races from extinction on Gunsmoke. Had Vash and Vanessa not conceived the plant child, Knives would surely have demolished the ships midair, killing every last human in the fall, or at least he would have tried. Neither his brother nor Vanessa, the only other plant children Knives had ever known, would have been spared from Knives' deadly blades. Only one soul seemed worth sparing; for Tessla, the emigration was allowed. Thank God Knives didn't have it in his bruised heart to kill a budding plant child.

Stepping through the desert with a stoic expression, he trekked towards infinity. The infinity was only emotional, it seemed, since within actual hours he found himself in an abandoned town, a town containing three plant bulbs.

Though he came so close as to press his hands against the glass of the bulbs, attempting to gaze into the black eyes of the plant angels, they refused to greet him.

Instead, he plunged deeper into the personal isolation, keeping all thoughts to himself as he adjusted the plant levels. They would need further regulation within the next few months.

Falling to his knees in exhaustion and frustration, Knives gritted his teeth to spite the hot tears coursing down his lovely face. He could accept his fate, as the details truly sunk in and his path became clearer, but it just wasn't fair. There he was: so completely marooned, without willing company. Everyday he would travel in this harsh climate to adjust plants. Scattered everywhere, these plant angels needed his help, and he couldn't let them down, but it would be nice if they could acknowledge his work. He knew they never would, not really. And the irony of it all…That he spent his entire life hoping to be rid of humans and that more plant children be created; yet both of these wishes were granted so horribly. Vanessa rejected him and broke his heart in the way that only a female member of the species could. His twin, Vash, wanted nothing to do with him unless he could agree to a pacifistic existence. These two traitors had still more gall, such that they even coupled behind Knives' back.

He curled into a ball on the hard, concrete floor before the bank of plants, preferring to lend this moment to wallowing in self-pity. His memory replayed the events of the last night in March, as they had so many times before. Months ago, in the wee hours of the morning, he had been awakened from a deep slumber. The realization of Vash woke him, yet it wasn't angel arm related. This sensation, as Knives finally allowed himself to conclude, must've signaled the conception of a plant child. It not only confirmed that Vanessa was as pregnant as she'd claimed, it also proved her infidelity.

As though she hadn't cared for him at all, she'd so easily cast his emotions aside for that frivolous fling with the truly foolish brother. Knives couldn't decide who deserved his angst most - Vash for sleeping with his only mate, Vanessa for so blatantly lying and betraying, or himself for allowing the entire mess to occur. Once he'd realized his mistake, and taken Vanessa into the desert, it was too late. She was by that time adamant in her choice, no matter how she claimed it untrue.

Perhaps he should've kept himself from the shock of her statement. If only he'd maintained his composure, he could've done something to turn the tide in his favor, instead of sulking off and letting them board. However, Vash was so stubborn that Knives would surely have been driven to kill him in order to take Vanessa for himself.

Sobbing aloud now, Knives' thoughts led him to the most heartbreaking fact of all – that they'd taken poor, unborn Tessla with humans to the source of humans. On Earth, Tessla would live a horrible life. Maybe she wouldn't even make it to the planet, considering that on a 2-year flight, someone would have to notice the child grow from infancy to adolescence within a year. Surely those humans would learn what Tessla was; to beat her, taunt her, and demean her as they had to both Vash and Vanessa. Tessla's fate was grim, in Knives' mind, and so he fell into a troubled sleep, riding on tears meant for her.

Once he was unconscious, the plant angels descended, peering beyond bulb walls to study his pathetic form.


	2. CHAPTER ONE: Hello, Future part2

CHAPTER ONE: HELLO, FUTUREPART TWO…Now the Happy Couple Is Alone…

Vanessa sighed and fell back into Vash's arms. "We're alive."

"Yep, sure are," he replied, equally relieved. Finally, he allowed his gaze to leave the porthole in their room, closing his eyes to the stars that filled this deep recess of space. "The three of us," he added happily, placing his only real hand over her stomach.

She had to reach back and feel his grin with her fingertips to know it was there. "Happily ever after, right?" she whispered, hiding her pain.

The wounds in her eyes, created when she forced Knives to angel arm, were healed, yet throbbing. Her eyeballs felt as though they'd been punched, and the usual migraine was making it difficult for her to concentrate. Once Gunsmoke disappeared from view she had shut her eyes, unable to endure the pain of sight any longer.

As Vanessa breathed deep and steady, failing her attempts to meditate the pain away, Vash's mind raced with happy visions of their future. This biased pause lasted for too long, and Vash wished to share his thoughts with her.

"So…" he began, shifting behind her so he could see her face, "Um…Should we get married or something?" The nonchalance of his words served to hide uncertainty.

She breathed in sharply. "I suppose so. The ritual seems a little excessive, but if you'd like we can," she murmured.

He was glad she couldn't perceive his subsequent frown. "It'd be romantic, wouldn't it? I do want to be with you forever…You and our children…"

"Forever really is forever for us, Vash. Contemplate that when you mention wedding vows, because they're tailored for humans. Humans don't live through centuries. Don't make promises you may break in a few hundred years," she bluntly suggested, gritting her teeth as the nausea of the migraine set in.

All his muscles relaxed, betraying his reaction.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean it like that. Forever with you would be lovely. It's just this migraine; it's making me callous." Reaching out until her fingers met his face, she set her palm against his cheek.

"Because you've used your eyes too much today?" he asked, recalling how hard she had been squinting, attempting to see Knives' reactions to her words. "Let me see." He carefully lifted her scarred eyelids and gasped. They were horrifically bloodshot, and in several places blood vessels had popped, creating tender pools of red across her corneas. "I'm pretty sure you need medical attention for this. They've been stressed pretty severely, Vanessa," he explained solemnly, staring into her glazed eyes.

She bit her lip. "Are my eyes open right now? If they are…well…I can't see a thing."

Vash fiddled with the area on the wall of their room that he assumed to be a communications device.

"Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Saverem?" a woman's voice chirped.

"My…er…wife…She needs to see a doctor," Vash explained, choosing his words clumsily.

"Is the matter life-threatening?"

"No, but if she's left like this, she may not regain her sight, and-"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Saverem, but until quarantine is lifted no non-emergency medical attention can occur."

"Qua…rah…Quarantine?" Vash choked out. "What exactly…"

"Nothing to worry about, sir. This is a simple procedure in which we will be remotely collecting samples from all refugees, to assess any and all health threats to members of this crew. Panic is not advised."

"But she may go blind!" Vash exclaimed, face red with concern.

"Calm down, sir. Any and all violent outbursts will be stifled by mild tranquilizers administered through the air. Therapeutic eye medication will be delivered with your rations as soon as possible, and will prevent any further health problems. Will that be all, Mr. Saverem? This is a very tense time for us all, and your cooperation will allow our procedures to flow smoothly. We appreciate your concern."

The communication circuit cut off, leaving Vash decidedly speechless.

"They're being reasonable. I can wait," Vanessa assured. She lowered herself onto the bed, laying fetus-style atop the strange, soft sheets. "I'm not afraid of the dark. Just hold me, please," she asked, hoping to fall into unconsciousness soon.

Vash scratched the back of his head and lay before her, slowly pulling his fingers through her mussed hair. His eyes danced across her face and body as tears filled his eyes once more.

Hearing his little sniffle, Vanessa forced a smile. "It's finally okay, and you're crying? No, don't be upset. Don't let this little setback hinder our celebration. Finally free from that planet's suffering…We should be so happy now. Really, I'm fine. Everything's fine. Tell me it is, okay?"

"Everything is wonderful. All but your eyes, everything's fantastic," he agreed, gaining a little optimism from her encouraging words. "Tell me I'm going to be a daddy, please. I liked it when you said that," he requested.

Vanessa smirked and nestled her hand under his chin. "You're gonna be a daddy, Vash. Now let's get some rest."

Vash's eyes remained open in the lit room, watching her meticulously. If only she wasn't in pain, he could've continued the conversation. He wanted to decide with her what they ought to do about Tessla. After all, once she was born, they would have to come up with credible excuses for her rapid growth, and he could think of none.

Every blessing comes with its own problems, and this little unborn child of theirs would be more trouble during this 2-year flight than their clever minds were prepared to deal with. 


	3. CHAPTER TWO: Adjustments Must Be Made

CHAPTER TWO: ADJUSTMENTS MUST BE MADE

PART ONE…Respect Your Elders…

The usual low hum filled the plant compound as ten freshly calloused fingers tapped away at a keyboard. Once all plant factors had reached optimum levels, actions and numbers were penciled into a softbound notebook, under the general heading, 'Mihr'. The task completed, Knives' footsteps clanged against the treacherous metal stairs and plodded to the next plant platform.

Here he stood, before the thankless plant bulb, and tapped his pencil against the tip of his nose. 'Liwet,' he decided, labeling a new section in the notebook as such before turning to this keyboard and repeating his meticulous process.

This routine, which took over thirty of the most intelligent humans days to complete before, he finished within the hour.

His set quota of twenty plants adjusted per day now fulfilled, Knives began to lay his travel bedding upon the catwalk between all twelve of these plants. Here, he settled comfortably upon his blankets and closed his eyes. This was how he lived – traveling to serve the plants and meditating to them in hopes of a reply piercing the utter silence.

In a manner that cannot be taught, he jumped from thought pattern to thought pattern of science concepts, literary themes, and musical compositions. Knives had attempted so many avenues to entertain or inform the plant angels, hoping to spot an eye or finger or any other recognizable humanoid part. He was full of such determination, drawing from every book he had read, and every concept he had grasped. But this was not the kind of thing the plant angels responded to.

Knives opened his eyes and stared at his hazy reflection in the high metal ceiling. "So you aren't interested in me today?" he asked them, voice faint and weak. It had been days since he'd last spoken aloud, and he noticed that lack of use was weakening his vocal cords. "Haven't you realized who I am?" He focused into his own eyes, and then stared himself from end to end. "Is it because I look like one of the humans? Because I'm not, you realize. I'm perfect, like you, but unlike them."

The lack of response cracked his ego. "I'm your nephew, or your son or brother, in human terms," he explained, choosing simple speech over thinking in order to exercise his voice. "You have two other sentient siblings, but they are gone now. I am Knives. They are Vash and Vanessa. You had no names, but I have given you each a name; prestigious names worthy of your superior race. Our superior race. Because I know you are alive. It's safe to show yourselves to me – I will not use you as the humans did." He cleared his throat, awaiting his voice's return to the previous, deep tone. "Together, we must discover our purposes. You may know yours, which is why I am attempting to converse with you. Speaking through my mouth is how I have been taught to communicate, primitive though it may be. Telepathy seems to be stunted at the moment. That, or you are choosing not to respond."

A harsh scream announced itself suddenly. After a pause, two more loud yells were released. "Silly, isn't it?" Knives asked, eyes darting over the ceiling reflections. "Can you not do that, or do you prefer not to? Would you like to experience things as I do? What about me interests you; or are avoiding hibernation because of something besides interest? Why do I keep asking questions you refuse to answer? Am I insane?"

He sighed and smiled. "You are my brethren. I love you all regardless of this ill treatment. But I need your help to create a plot of land I may sustain myself upon. I'm quickly running out of the food the humans left behind. While I don't wish to force anyone into production, your levels will waver out of healthy ranges without me, so I find it reasonable to select a few of you to serve as geoplants. Of all the plants on the planet, I will pick three random plants from my records and visit them. Upon each visit, I will allow any of you to descend and indicate your opinions. If you've been selected and deny the position, merely descend and transmit your feelings in whatever way I will understand; if you've not been chosen but want to be, please do the same. Until then, I'll gather materials to divert production circuits to the area I've chosen as a home."

Knives' reflection in the ceiling began to fade as second sunset commenced outside. In the slight glow of the calm plants he could barely see his form.

His stomach growled, cuing him to reach into his pack for a meal bar. Burrowing deep, his fingers hit a book, surprising him. Once the book was removed, Knives squinted in the dim light to read the title. 'Poetry Collection of Jonathon Swift.' This was where Vanessa said she'd gotten her name. 'The humans reject what they cannot perceive as perfection,' he thought to himself. 'She was such a perfect nymph, wasn't she.' He thought of opening the old book, but the time of day did not permit.

Before he could place the book within his pack once more, the glow became brighter, and the plant bank was lit as though with daylight.

"No," Knives replied. "I don't need to read it. I'm tired," he stated, curling up into his blankets for the night. He covered his face from the light, but it became more and more intense. "I want to sleep!" he screamed, to no avail.

Throwing the blankets off, he sat up and held his eyes shut. "You're going to blind me!" he yelled angrily.

A pause held him for too long, and he reached for the book again. This action led to the dimming of the lights, now at a comfortable level.

Knives blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted and he began to silently read the opening lines of "Cadenus and Vanessa." As he continued, his mind filled with memories of her, and he shut his eyes stubbornly. "I don't want this. It hurts me worse than death," he murmured bitterly.

Again, the blinding light flashed, warning him to continue reading.

He gritted his teeth and obeyed, picking up where he'd left off. His heart wrenched from the memories, but he became faintly aware of an odd warmth surrounding him. Once the poem had been reviewed, the light became low and somber, allowing him to slip into sleep without further incident.


	4. CHAPTER TWO: Adjustments Must Be Made ...

CHAPTER TWO: ADJUSTMENTS MUST BE MADE

PART TWO…Familiar Faces…

"What did the leper say to the prostitute?"

After a wet, unpleasant pause, the muffled reply came. "That's sick, Vash," she muttered before feeling another surge of heaving.

Still holding her hair behind her back, he reached to brush a stray bit of hair from her face as she vomited into the fancy toilet. "He said, keep the tip."

In an awkwardly painful moment, she giggled and regurgitated at the same time. Once Vanessa felt the nausea leave her belly, she spat a few more times and relaxed back onto her bare heels. "How many times do I have to tell you…It hurts to laugh and throw up at the same time," she insisted.

Vash bit his lip and handed her a warm washrag to wipe her face with. "I'm sorry. I can't help it." He helped her stand to rinse out her mouth. "It gives me purpose," he added, referring to the feeling most fathers-to-be experience during morning sickness and other aspects of pregnancy. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

Vanessa nodded, feeling along the wall to exit. "Quarantine's being lifted any moment now, and I'm starved. Living cooped up in here is no more fun for me than it has been for you."

"Hey…But I tried to make it more-"

"You did, you did," she interrupted, casting a smile in his direction. "You're the best form of entertainment." Feeling Vash's warmth beside her now, she turned and hugged him. Releasing him, she pulled her long scarf from the bed and wrapped it about her head. "Um…where's that stick…?"

Vash placed the telescoping cane into her scarred palm. "Let me make sure we can first," he murmured, opening their communications circuit. "Excuse me, miss? Are we cleared?"

"Yes, Mr. Saverem. I'm releasing your lock now. Have a comfortable flight."

OOO

Vanessa smiled into her void as the happy reunion bustled about her. She envisioned the bigger woman hugging Vash too tightly, and the smaller one standing tense and authoritative just out of reach. She gripped her cane under the cafeteria table, shifting nervously in the curvy chair.

Once the three bodies landed in their chairs, Vanessa felt Vash's familiar, gentle hand rest atop hers. "Millie's across and slightly to your left, and Meryl's directly across from you," he explained softly.

"Hello! Have you been well?" Vanessa asked warmly in their direction.

Millie nodded, then caught herself. "Yes, we've been just fine, Miss Vanessa."

"We mainly just sat around, watching those television projection things," Meryl added, choosing not to look into Vanessa's scarred face. "And we're not looking forward to more of this studying business. There's so much information we have to go through yet."

Vash grinned cheerily. "But it's so interesting isn't it?"

Millie looked hesitant. "Sort of. Mostly confusing. I wish they'd just let me go into child care or something so I wouldn't have to take those exams."

Meryl's fist connected with the tabletop. "I don't understand why they won't let us just continue with the insurance field. But no…They say we're under-qualified."

"Earth has changed so much…We'll never live the lives we had before," Vanessa interjected. "But we're promised safety and lives not survival-based. And when I imagine the animals and plants and things…It should be so nice."

"Yep. So…Everybody hungry?" Vash asked. "Millie, would you stay here with Vanessa while we get the meals?"

Millie nodded, watching them walk to the distribution line. Her thumbs began to fiddle amongst each other. She couldn't think of anything terribly appropriate to say to the woman, so she began to make awkward conversation. "Didn't Mr. Vash say your eyes were recovering?"

Vanessa smirked a little. "They were. They still might again. I haven't tried to open them since liftoff. But I've an appointment with a doctor tonight. Even if I'm blind, it's a small price to pay."

"It was awfully brave of you," Millie said solemnly, remembering the story as Mr. Vash had explained it, over a communication circuit between their rooms. She could hardly imagine anyone talking so boldly to Mr. Knives, and was very relieved that they'd managed to find a way to keep Mr. Knives calm that didn't involve bloodshed. "Oh, and did I already tell you congratulations? When are you due?"

Shrugging, Vanessa folded her arms on the tabletop casually. "I can guess six months or so, but who knows. I mean, considering."

"Oh, yes, I see," Millie replied. "Well, I can't wait! Little Tessla's going to be the cutest little thing!"

Vanessa smiled. "Thanks," she said, drawing her hands back into her lap as Vash set the tray before her.

"So what do your occupational projections say?" Meryl asked, preferring professional topics.

Vash scratched the back of his head with one hand and picked up his entire block of pastry with the other. "Actually, I'm taking the exams tomorrow. I finished the starter and intermediate information before we left." Still grinning goofily, he shoved his entire dessert into his mouth.

Millie's jaw dropped. "Oh, my gosh!"

"He's some kind of genius," Meryl sighed, bringing the juice pack straw to her lips.

"Meryl's been transferred into math, and I'm stuck with typing," Millie explained, eyes still wide with amazement. "And you're done! Wow! What about you, Miss Vanessa?"

Swallowing an un-ladylike mouthful of granola, Vanessa lifted her head. "If I regain my sight, I may go into medicine. But I've been pretending to study; really, I haven't devoted myself to studies yet. I figure I should act as though I'm learning more slowly to avoid drawing attention to myself. For now, I'm reviewing in foreign languages."

Vash frowned momentarily, but brightened before anyone noticed. "Have you seen the ships' map yet? Oh, they have the neatest things onboard!" he began excitedly, describing the endless botanical and zoological wings of Beta ship's lower hull that he himself had not yet seen. After about 20 minutes of enthusiastic speculations, Vash ended by commenting that he was going to spend every free minute exploring.

"Hey, Vash?" Vanessa whispered, poking him softly with her elbow. "Could you get me another?"

He nodded and went to retrieve another tray.

Meryl sat with her jaw dropped. Vanessa had eaten her meal in less than two minutes, and would soon scarf down another. Vash wouldn't eat but half of his meal, so as to give Vanessa the remainder of his.

"Are you still hungry?" Millie asked sheepishly as Vanessa finished the last of it.

Vanessa nodded. "But it's okay. I can make it until the next round of rations."

"I thought it took until the pregnancy begins to show for a woman to eat so much," Meryl wondered aloud. "You haven't gained a thing since we last saw you; I dare say you're thinner…"

"You're right, but it's nothing to worry about," Vanessa whispered. "I think this may be normal. For me."


	5. CHAPTER TWO: Adjustments Must Be Made ...

CHAPTER TWO: ADJUSTMENTS MUST BE MADE

_PART THREE…Professor Vash of Deck 58…_

Vash's greatest challenge during those extensive exams was creating sufficient error. He had to force himself to miss random questions, fearing he may be placed too high.

The results relieved him – only three degrees and one masters. It was the foreign language portion he'd slipped on, since the oral test was simply too natural to fluke enough. Every other section he'd erred at a minimum of 30%, helping him to appear as uneducated as the other refugees. When asked how he'd managed to become fluent in four languages and proficient in six more, considering that only three of them existed orally on Gunsmoke, he simply shrugged - hoping they'd consider him an idiot savant or something - and accepted his job placement.

Teachers were in high demand since education levels were generally lower than hoped, so Vash was enlisted as a French professor. Sporting carefully mussed hair and thick, non-prescription glasses, he disguised himself for work daily, lecturing and assisting with a patience and charisma everyone loved.

OOO

With his first paycredit, Vash bought an old-fashioned set of oil paints and canvases from the luxury shop.

Vanessa stared blankly at him, smiling. "Thank you," she murmured warmly, accepting the gifts.

The optometrist had concluded that she may never regain normal sight, but she was not blind. She could see colors and blurry shapes, and if she leaned close to an object, she could see its texture perfectly. But squinting or attempting to focus at all could cause a relapse, so she resigned herself to this relaxed stare. "I've only read about painting in books," she commented, feeling the smooth, metal paint tubes in awe.

Vash laughed and fixed a canvas onto the wall. "I can't afford brushes yet, but everything's nontoxic. You can use your hands if you want," he figured, looking around for a food tray to use as a palate. He found several – evidence that Meryl and Millie had brought their extra rations by earlier that day.

Ignoring the incessant nagging of her stomach, Vanessa rose unsteadily and rubbed the smooth, white canvas with her hand. "Can I paint you? Would you sit over there, while you watch the projection? I remember your face, so the blurriness isn't a problem," she said with a growing excitement. She knew that art forced hunger from her mind; long hours of intense drawing used to cause her to lose track of time.

Vash was bringing all the food he could smuggle, but it was never enough. She'd stopped telling him how hungry she was, not wanting him to worry. Nevertheless, he must have noticed that despite the amount of food she consumed, her body remained very thin. Recently, since Vash's rations had been at maximum for days, the hunger grew too fast and she couldn't move about without feeling weak. Vash was barely eating enough to maintain his own health, since he left her most of his own rations.

They were afraid to explain the dilemma to a doctor. Only a doctor could provide further nourishment or supplements for them, but a visit to the medical deck could mean discovery.

Vanessa's pregnancy was quickly proving itself abnormal. She was far from human, and the hunger that ravaged her outpaced a full-term human woman's fourfold. Vash had made a pact with her the other night – they agreed not to seek medical attention until she dropped below the minimum health levels she'd written out for him. Unless it was a matter of life or death, she would not visit the doctor, claiming obscure religious convictions for the secrecy.

Vash set his glasses on a little shelf and slumped into the corner seat. Here he sat, not really paying attention to the flashing images on the projection wall, trying to be as good a model as he could.

OOO

The sudden sound of running water woke him from a slumber he didn't remember falling into. According to the digital statistics below the projection, many hours had passed. His bladder ached, and a thickness coated his tongue and eyes. It was the faucet in the bathroom that was running, and it took Vash a moment to decide which he needed most – a drink or a toilet trip.

Vanessa was standing at the sink, washing her oily hands. There were little splatters of paint upon the tan fabric of her dress and the skin at her arms and neck. "What do you think?" she asked him as he impatiently began to use the toilet beside her.

"Oh, I didn't see it yet," he replied, moving to wash his hands as she grabbed a towel and left.

When Vash reentered the main room, she was leaning against the far wall, staring blankly at the canvas. He turned, and took in the brilliant colors creating his face and torso. Blinking through the vivid display, he was shocked at the image, which looked somehow far more realistic than a mirror's reflection. After a moment of breathlessness, he gasped sharply. "Vanessa, that's amazing…How did you…Wow. That's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen…"

"Well, you ARE an attractive man, Vash," she replied quickly.

"No, that's not what I meant! This is fantastic…"

She moved to his side and hugged him. "Thanks, Vash," she whispered, kissing his cheek.

Eyes finally leaving the canvas, Vash turned to kiss her deeply, awe becoming passion. For the last hour before bed, they occupied themselves from their hunger, choosing to enjoy one another's warmth and affection instead of food.


	6. CHAPTER THREE: Discovery

CHAPTER THREE: DISCOVERY

PART ONE…Break the Rules

"Really, Vash, is this such a good idea?" Vanessa whispered. It was during the dead of sleep hours, and she found herself plodding along at a snail's pace while Vash attempted to hurry her down the dimmed hallways. She held her arm about her stomach, though her only gain was minimal there. Her insides growled with a ferocious hunger, echoing off the smooth walls they passed, or so she thought. Gritting her teeth, her persuasions became more urgent. "Whatever it is, I don't want to. I'm…um…tired and I don't-"

"Trust me, it's worth it," Vash interrupted, continuing to lead her along by the hand patiently. He hadn't heard her stomach's complaints, but knew nevertheless that her motives were hunger-based.

Hunger was an immense presence in their lives. They spent so many waking moments wondering how intense the need would be, since they could never find enough food to appease them. Vash sacrificed nearly all he had for her, and despite the circumstances, Vanessa wasn't acting anything like a human mother might. Vanessa's food intake was four times that of a grown man, yet it seemed to go nowhere. Her weight remained steady, limbs thinning as her belly grew just slightly. Morning sickness had been a temporary thing, so there was no doubt of nutrition loss that way. It defied logic, but somehow Vanessa's body was storing it all away.

Though usually they were too tired to pursue activities, Vash always planned trips to various sites on the ship, and Vanessa occasionally felt a surge of energy that floored Vash. Tonight, he wished to show her the last item of interest he could think of.

"Why at night?" she whined, yearning for the safety of their room.

Vash smiled, ignoring her pleas. "Because it's too crowded in the day hours. And besides, the clothes we're supposed to wear for it would show our scars," he added.

Vanessa's eyebrow rose, but before she could speak, they were there.

The ceiling was quite high, and the entire room was foggy with humidity. Drips of water echoed throughout, casting eerie patterns of sound at all seconds. In the center of the room was a huge rectangular pit, filled with clear water.

"Is this it?"

"Yes," he answered, a bit hurt by her lack of enthusiasm.

Vanessa stepped forward and knelt beside the water. "Well, there's nothing living in it, it seems. So this is drinking water?" she asked, voice soft and quieting in response to the echoes.

Vash sat just behind her and began to unfasten his boots. "No, it's different. Not like your pond or a well. This is special."

Suddenly, a stray spray of water pelted Vanessa. She held in a shriek as she realized through hazy vision that he had jumped into the water.

His head popped above water and he grinned. Spitting water, he regained his breath and attempted to remain above the surface.

"What should I do?" Vanessa hissed urgently. "You'll get in trouble, ruining the water like this!"

"No, it's for swimming!" Vash explained, growing confident in his new water treading skills. "This pool is an exercise device. By moving through it and even by just staying afloat you can get a cardiovascular workout without harsh resistance on the joints. I've watched the classes before and I think I understand the basic strokes. But like I said, they make you wear these suit things that show off too much skin. It feels great in here, you should try it now that we're alone," he suggested, spouting off the information in his genial, lecturing tone of voice. "Just close your eyes, take a deep breath, and hold your nose shut. I'll help you."

Vanessa dipped her hand in, testing the warmth. "On Gunsmoke, we pined for water reservoirs with every bone in our bodies. On Earth, they would willingly waste them for sport. Interesting." Waiting for a reply and getting none, she slowly breathed in and plopped deliberately into the water as instructed. After flailing a little to right herself, she found Vash before her, holding her up.

"Calm down," he choked, finding it hard to breath with his head bobbing underwater. "Relax."

She calmed, and her trust led her to begin treading water with him, hiding her fear as she obeyed his instruction. Swimming wasn't so much fun for her as it seemed for Vash.

He held his grin for the duration of their clumsy swim, hoping that her mind was off of the hunger. There was little he could do, and this seemed it.

OOO

Stepping silently with bare feet, they both shivered, clothes drenched. The ship was cooled to a frosty 72 degrees at all times. The one towel Vash had found was about Vanessa's shoulders.

An official stopped them. He did not look amused. "Identify," he demanded, holding out a fingerprint recognition card.

Vash hesitated, and placed his finger upon the outline, watching the man scan the received information. "Are we in trouble?" he asked innocently, using his best angel face to seduce his way out of the dilemma.

The man's eyes remained transfixed on his info screen. "Trespassing in a dangerous area without safety personnel present? And your wife here, considering her medical situations…Your outright disregard for our rules and social order is disheartening to say the least." Tucking the screen under his arm, the official continued to address only Vash. "Professor Saverem, I find that many of you insolent refugees, once having attained a higher position, begin to feel that the rules and regulations do not apply. But they do, and at this rate you'll have accumulated a negative record before we even reach Earth soil."

"We promise, we'll never do it again; we're sorry," Vash apologized genuinely, putting his arm round Vanessa and holding onto his expression. "We're very sorry."

"What do you mean by 'at this rate'?" Vanessa asked warily.

"Hoarding rations, rejecting prenatal care, failing to enforce the education guidelines…you have a record of negative behavior," the man explained to Vash, ignoring Vanessa's unsteady gaze. "We have only so much to feed you, yet you behave so greedily. On Earth, no religions rejecting medical care exist anymore, yet you hold fast to some dead religion and deny the unborn the right to health. And pregnancy is no excuse for lax studying."

"I'll pass the exams before landing, and that's all that matters," Vanessa interjected, growing angry. "Plus, you can't blame us for our metabolism or our beliefs. We have rights."

Vash gulped, but hid his fear. "Besides tonight, we really haven't broken the main list of rules. The other things we've done go against suggestion, and we're sorry, but-"

"Don't argue with your superiors," the official snarled, pointing a finger uncomfortably close to Vash's nose. "You may feel like a king now, but on Earth, rebellious punks like you will be scum to us. Shape up now, for your own good, because a negative record will result in full loss of the housing and labor package back home!"

"Save the condescending speeches and cut to the chase," Vanessa growled protectively. "We're not to break the rules again, and what else? Hmm? May we leave now, or would you have to waste more of our time?"

The man narrowed his eyes, face growing red while he maintained his professional tone of voice. "Well, certainly, Mrs. Saverem. Go home, and stay there! From now on, the both of you are banned from all use of the pool facilities, as well as the zoological and botanical wards. Troublemakers such as you don't deserve our luxuries. If you're caught on these premises, during any hours, or are caught breaking curfew in any way, you will be reprimanded and your records adjusted. Do you understand?"

Vash nodded solemnly and the man marched away. He felt Vanessa's muscles relax as she came to realize that displaying anger could only make matters worse.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, holding her belly. "I'm too tired, and he was dreadful." She turned and kissed him apologetically.

"I know. It's okay. We'll survive it," he whispered back, smiling optimistically as they hurried to their quarters.


	7. CHAPTER THREE: Discovery part2

CHAPTER THREE: DISCOVERY

PART TWO…Loneliness' Cure…

The toma-drawn cart arrived at the remote home site a few hours before sunrise, fully laden with barrels of plant-produced water. Knives immediately went to work filling the irrigation tanks. Once the barrels were emptied, he led the tomas to their covered stable. The remaining morning hours were spent building onto the greenhouse, creating an expanded wing for the ever-growing greenery.

Just before first noon, Knives gathered a meal. He filled a bowl with several handfuls of peapods, a young squash, and a sunflower bloom. Once inside his shelter, he poured a glass of lukewarm water and dove into his meal, ignoring the little grains of dirt and sand attached to the foods. He didn't even bother to shuck the sunflower seeds or peas; he simply hastened to feed his hunger and assumed that all parts of the plants offered nourishment.

Eyes heavy with exhaustion, Knives let himself relax, toweling the sweat from his shoulders and chest before laying down for his afternoon nap. Every day was a physical and emotional struggle for him, every moment taken by chores, traveling, and anticipation. Daily water trips were required every morning, and once he woke from this brief nap, he would head out to tend to twenty plants, as scheduled. At first, the procedures had been too much for Knives, and he'd grown ill, passing out occasionally from the strain. Now, however, his body and mind had hardened from the efforts.

If he had a mirror, he would've stared in somber awe at the reflection. He had been muscular before, but now he was nearly without body fat, every muscle defined. His skin was deeply tanned, and his face was as fixedly serious as ever.

OOO

For all these months he had gone without seeing a face beside his own. Only when the two plant angels had descended simultaneously at the geoplant trials had he seen faces.

That day, he journeyed to visit the third randomly chosen plant, to see if she would display a reply to his choice. His heart nearly skipped a beat when the two descended. Arad, the chosen plant, pressed her hands against the bulb, showing him her predominantly black hair. Sofiel, across the plant bank, did the same, but her hair was still light. Knives waited, hoping for communication, but there was none because there was no need for any. The reactions were clear – Sofiel wished to assume the geoplant position because Arad was too weak to live through the ordeal. Once the truth flashed in Knives' mind, the plant angels rose and curled themselves back into rest. Knives had sighed, and held back sadness as he realized that the plants weren't going to socialize with him after all.

Plant angels only descended in moments of great urgency, such as overload, physical trauma, or impending death. In the past, Knives had formed an additional hypothesis – that the plant angels would descend in other times if no humans were present. He'd assumed the plant angels to hold the same sort of species secrecy that he felt so strongly.

There were eyewitness reports from humans claiming to have 'met' plant angels, and from them sprouted various plant worshipping cults. Knives considered the worship perfectly natural, considering his race's obvious superiority, and also found that the more devout followers could prove very useful. He had used religion to recruit many reverently fearful disciples, to be sent out in the plot to ruin his brother's peaceful existence.

Nevertheless, how could Knives allow himself to believe the reports, that plant angels would in safe times willingly expose their true form to the humans? Surely these were mistakes and rumors. After all, Knives himself – the beloved son and brother to all self-respecting plant angels – had only seen descended plant angels in trauma. Only when he had found them sick or dying, or had himself affected their levels harshly, did they appear. Never would a plant expose itself in human presence, if they would not do so to their own kind. Or so Knives believed.

They didn't show themselves unnecessarily, but they regularly made their preferences known. Through light and warmth they forced him to read to them, but only from documents or books that invoked strong emotions in himself. The plant angels were strangely completely uninterested in technical or mathematical texts. Knives hated to think of himself as their personal live action soap opera, but it seemed to be the truth. They delighted in his passions and suffering, and he had so much of such things to offer. And though at first they had seemed interested in his writings on plant superiority and the need for human extinction, after time they had reacted against these ideas. When he turned to blind anger and prejudice these days, they slunk away into darkness and chilled the room to a temperature far below the coolest desert nights until he offered a different, more accepted emotion. The recent most popular emotions they liked to observe in him were desire for companionship and jealousy of Vash's chances at fatherhood. It was during these invocations that Knives felt the most warmth and most comforting light radiate from the surrounding plant bulbs.

OOO

Startled suddenly by a soft murmuring outside, Knives rose from his humble cot and burst from the shelter. In the greenhouse, he found that huge vines and tree tendrils had transformed his modest vegetation into a formidable jungle. From this mass of foliage, soft cries came, drawing him deep into the darkness, through this maze of treacherous and foreign plant life.

Finally, he found an open space, where Vanessa stood like a harvest goddess. She smiled happily at Knives, without scars or blindness. "Hello, darling little Knives."

Knives gripped a thick vine to keep himself from collapsing. "How can you be here?" he asked bitterly, wishing he could lose himself in the vision, fighting his own logic.

"Shh, Knives. I've missed you," she cooed, stepping closer to him on those familiar bare feet, moving slowly and quickly all at once until suddenly she was before him, breath hitting his face sweetly as air laden with honey. "I've missed you so much."

Opening his eyes after blinking hard, he still saw her. She was so lovely, so good. He reached out to hold her, and drew her against him until her body tensed with pain.

She drew back, arms going limp as the wounds appeared across her face, neck, back, and hand. Even her old break struck her arm, causing it to fall lifeless at her side. Blood began to pour sickeningly from her eyes and other wounds, though she still smiled from beneath the mask of red. "Knives, have you missed me?"

"How could you, Knives?" a young voice murmured. Stepping from behind Vanessa and gripping her skirt was a small boy, perhaps ten years old, with spiked blonde hair and wide blue eyes. Tears rolled down his pinked cheeks, accenting the twitch in his lower lip. "After all she did for us…"

Knives' legs failed him. He crumpled to the bloodied ground before them, watching the tender blood feed the soil. The soil became rich and black, and thick green stalks struck out, entwining the figures and growing with a maddening speed.

Young Vash reached out with his little fingers and grabbed Knives' hair, wrenching his head to look up again. "Tell me why?" he demanded in his broken voice until sobs thundered his little body.

"Even in my dreams," Knives murmured sadly as the realization hit him. "Why are my dreams so mocking? Why can't I just sleep…"

Then the light changed from a sunny glare to an almost neon blue. Knives felt as though this was no longer a dream of his own mind, but rather that some outside force was controlling the images. He watched as the blood and mutant vines disappeared. Little Vash sidestepped into Vanessa's form.

Vanessa's face was clean, and her pupils disappeared. Her grin faded into a soft smirk. "This is too lonely," she whispered, with an echo as though speaking through water. "Desperation leads to the end of life. No need to die. Live on for now. A solution is offered soon. Do not dream like this, it is ugly."

With that vague speech, she turned and Knives awoke, covered in a cold sweat. It was afternoon and he had plants to adjust.


	8. CHAPTER THREE: Discovery part3

CHAPTER THREE:  DISCOVERY PART THREE…Maybe It's Normal… 

Isolated from the hands-on wonders of the ships, Vash and Vanessa passed the weeks in their room, accepting visits from Meryl and Millie from time to time.  The girls' extra rations were graciously accepted every afternoon, and though they still failed to feed Vanessa's hunger, at least she had begun to show obvious signs of growth.

Vanessa's appearance was that of a human woman late in her second trimester, breasts and belly visibly swollen.  Her pregnancy was advancing approximately 1.32 times faster than a human's, yet not so fast that it seemed obviously freakish.  Nevertheless, factors such as this immense, unrelenting hunger, the amazingly brief period of morning sickness, lack of growing pains or general discomfort, and lack of weight gain in all other areas of the body caused Vanessa to hide from the public eye.

As hopeful as they were, they felt that things would only become stranger, and they couldn't be prepared for everything.  After all, this was a first for their species, as far as they knew.

"Hello, Mr., I mean, Professor Vash!" Millie called out, jogging towards him with an armful of ration trays.

Vash stepped fully from the doorway of his classroom and waved.  "Afternoon, ladies!  How are things?"

"Oh, just great!  Data management is easier than I thought!" Millie replied happily, catching her breath as Meryl caught up.  She leaned in to whisper.  "And Meryl's got big news."

Meryl stepped beside her friend and smiled.  "Hi."

"Go ahead and tell him," Millie insisted.

Clearing her throat, Meryl hid a smirk.  She shifted her weight onto the other leg and crossed her arms.  "I've met someone-"

"She's got a boyfriend!" Millie exclaimed, bursting with excitement.

Meryl slapped her own forehead.

"But that's what Mr. Salem is, Meryl!" Millie argued.  "That's what we call a guy back home, if you've sle-"

"Millie, shut up," Meryl sneered quietly.  "He doesn't have to know that."

"But don't act like it's not true, I know what you're doing in there when you lock your-"

Meryl held her hand over Millie's mouth until she quit.  "Anyhow, I'd like to introduce him to you and Vanessa, since he's heard so much already.  Nothing secret, I'm not going to tell him about…you know."

Vash nodded, giggling.  "Well, I'm happy for you."

"Mr…Professor Vash, can we walk you home?" Millie asked cheerily, adjusting the stack of trays she was juggling.  "We couldn't get to Miss Vanessa all afternoon, till now, so we'd like to get her these."

Looking a little uncomfortable, Vash held up his hands.  "Um, no, I'd better take them myself.  Thanks a lot, you guys!" he replied, accepting the stacks into his own arms.

The girls waved goodbye as Vash sauntered towards his room.  He sighed relief.  There was a good chance that Vanessa would be 'in the mood' when he got home; she'd been exhaustingly affectionate lately.  He didn't want to disappoint her by arriving home with guests.

"Sorry, Vanessa, the food's late, but there's plenty now," Vash called into the dimmed quarters, stopping when he saw her.

Silently, he entered the main room, the door sliding silently closed behind him.  He set down the trays and stepped towards the bed, wondering why she was asleep.  She'd been asleep when he'd gotten up that morning, and remained so while he got ready for work.  He'd tried to kiss her goodbye, but she wouldn't stir.  And there she still slept, dressed and positioned the same, all those hours later.  

He sat beside the bed and smiled.  She looked lovely in this soft light, her curves accentuated.  She was carrying their child, he reminded himself, as he placed a hand gently on her womb.  "Vanessa," he whispered, leaning in to kiss her.  "Wake up, Vanessa…"

Still she lay there, silent and unmoving, statuesque.  Not one movement or sound came from her, and in this dead silence Vash heard the faint, high-pitched ring of nothingness.

His heart sank.  He nudged her and again called her name, voice growing more urgent and frightened with each syllable.

Her pulse was low, but still safe.  Her breath was faint, but present.  Her skin was warm, strangely warm, and her pupils, once he gently lifted her scarred eyelids to check, reacted very slowly to light.

Vash's mind raced.  "Relax, Vash," he commanded, breathing deeply as he palmed the projection wall.  He adjusted the volume slowly higher, until it was definitely too loud to sleep through.

From the corner of his eye he noticed the newest painting she had started the night before.  She still had paint under her fingernails.  He gripped her hand and held it beneath his chin.  A tear rolled down his face.

In his mind, her medical instructions repeated themselves.  She wasn't below the levels.  He agreed not to ask for medical assistance unless she was as unhealthy as she'd indicated.  Her vitals were fine, if a little weak, and besides the fact that she wouldn't come to consciousness she was fine.  Just fine.

Running a sweaty hand through his mussed hair, Vash gritted his teeth.  He thought a little, then crawled onto the bed behind her and held her.  For a while, he just lay there, holding her, as he cried.  The projection wall was babbling about clothing styles, jumping from voice to voice in such a loud volume.  Sobbing, Vash lifted her body into a sitting position and shook her for a bit.  He propped her up with pillows on the bed, and went to splash a cup of water on her face.  "What else can I do to wake you up?" he asked.

After once more checking her vitals, and receiving the same results, he looked at her sadly.  "You told me not to call them.  As you are, I'm not supposed to," he thought aloud.  "You said, 'no medical attention.' And you meant it."

Vash took a moment to compose himself, at least enough to speak calmly, and opened the communications circuit.  With trembling fingers he selected a line, and waited for someone to respond on the other end. 

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	9. CHAPTER FOUR: Pray to a Higher Power

CHAPTER FOUR:  Pray to a Higher Power 

_PART ONE…Dear Family…_

I would end my life if I had certainty that your lives did not depend on my own.  However, my mind cannot invent a device or permanent system to ensure constant, safe levels for eternity.  Out of duty to you, my brethren, I must be alive and working.

That is not to say that I hold no further value to my life; I know that I have worth.  This worth simply seems useless now, lost without another sentient being to share it with.  You are all important to me, and I love your presence, but the separation the bulbs create hurts me greatly.  I must have some reply to my spoken words – some compassionate reactions to my sorrows.

My immortal life depends on a different physical realm - a separate set of resources - than yours.  I must feed off of your produced vegetation and water to survive, and your bulbs rely on the delicate balance of variables I must regulate.  We need each other, so it seems.  However, while you all seem contented, now that you are free from human exploitation, I am dying inside.

I had a dream yesterday.  The dream taunted me, showing me the female Vanessa whom I lost to circumstance, and the brother Vash who took her and my assumed future from me.  My heart was crushed by this feverish nightmare, as has occurred in so many of my periods of rest.

I have made mistakes in my past; have let things get out of hand.  I have failed myself, my race, and even Vash and Vanessa, to an extent.  I am all too imperfect.  As these accursed dreams prove, I am torturing myself for my past indiscretions.

Surely I have suffered long enough.  I would rather live in full ignorance of the past than be in this constant regret.

As the dream's end hinted, I feel that you all realize this as truth.  The dream lost its sorrow, lost its pain.  It became pleasant again, and the words I perceived came from one, several, or all of you, as I have no way of knowing for certain.  Perhaps you did not cause it at all.  The words hinted at an end to my sorrow.  That soon I would find relief from this isolation.

I can only hope and speculate.  Forgive me for doing so.

I want someone to walk and talk with, someone to share my hopes and dreams and daily observations with.  I need this connection, which you may or may not understand.

Our race may only thrive here, on this barren planet.  We now reside upon our species' present home.   I need your help to slowly terraform this land, to create the Eden I envisioned so long ago.  But the Eden seems without purpose, cold and empty, if there are no happy entities to frolic within it.

I alone feel no joy, no excitement.  I am totally disconcerted with this existance.  I am nothing, alone.  Only with another to reflect myself and my race identity upon may further goals be accomplished.  We, as an endangered species, must multiply.  Though reproduction occurs first within the bulb, only in this outside atmosphere may the true family thrive.

Please accept this humble plea, to provide for myself a companion.  We need more sentient plants, in the event that I somehow become crippled and can no longer visit you all.  I beg of you, offer a child or more, to help me to till the land and adjust your levels.  And if it is not too much a selfish request, please give me someone I may live with happily.  I would raise them so carefully, so compassionately, to respect you all and our race.  I would teach them love of family and importance of conservation and freedom.  And I would offer them the highest forms of friendship and companionship.  For them, I would learn to treat another as an equal, to value in mind and body.  I will not ruin the chance you may provide.  Never again will I repeat those past mistakes.

Forgive my shortcomings.  I am quick to anger, and frustration ruins my judgment all too often these days.  When I have stumbled into bitter thoughts toward you, I was wrong.  A mind wandering is a harmless thing, I assure.  Never would I harm you unless it was absolutely necessary, as is true with geoplanting and water production.  Remember that as a sentient, I am subject to daydreaming and distractions.  Only in my brief moments of desperation do I think of harming any of you, and even then it was related to creating in you a companion.

So you see, voluntarily providing one can only be good for us all.

Assuming his intelligence to have created no mistakes in the draft, Knives dropped the pages beside himself on the bed.  He wiped the tears from his cheeks and sighed.  It felt relieving to jot all of that down, but he still couldn't help but wonder if he was aiming his hopes too high.  One little dream, and he went so far as to compose a grand prayer for the plant angels, which he would painstakingly have to travel to read to each of them.  Though the chance that his prayer would be answered was slim to none, it was still a chance.

As he gathered his pack and cloak, to set out into the desert and begin his pilgrimage, he allowed his mind to envision this child or children.  Perhaps there would be a male and female, from separate plant mothers of course, that would grow to mate with each other.  Their offspring would refer to Knives as 'Grandpa', he imagined with a chuckle.  Perhaps there may be a boy, or twin boys like himself and Vash.  But considering his own past, he hoped twins would be out of the question.  Yes, a male, to raise as his disciple and student.  Or (as he dared to think, heart skipping beats with the possibility) a female, beautiful and clever as Vanessa, yet without the sorrow, scarring, and betrayal.  A female, to grow to admire Knives as her rightful mate, to follow him and serve him and provide the humble pleasures he had never managed to find in all of these years.

"Let it be a female," he murmured, as the wind whipped the tattered robe about him.  "Let her cherish me as Vanessa refused to do.  Please let it be female…"

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	10. CHAPTER FOUR: Pray to a Higher Power p...

CHAPTER FOUR:  Pray to a Higher Power 

PART TWO…The Master's Prostration… 

The plant bank was silent as a tomb until he came.  It was always this way, the air muggy and thick, the steel walls and concrete floor cooled by the night.  Not a flicker of light, nor a passing shadow hinted at the life within.  This was surely just a couple rows of overgrown light bulbs in a fancy old container, or so it appeared.

A soft glow began to rise from the bulbs, all at once and yet too slowly to note the change.  The dormant plant angels powered the light gradually, rising from slumber to stretch their fibers and forces.  Slightly, their bodies moved within the core.  Just little shivers of awakening, no more.  All was light and static well before he stepped in.

Knives glanced about, assessing any changes in the environment within the ancient wreckage.  He climbed the main catwalk, dropped his pack in the usual spot, took out his notebook, and began to personally address and adjust each plant.  Within, his heart was fluttering nervously.  The excitement still had not waned, though this was the eleventh day of his pilgrimage.  Despite his anxiety, to read the letter and share his hopes, he forced his mind to clear itself of all emotion and thought.  Otherwise, the plants may become distracted and affect the accuracy of his adjustments, as had occurred before.

So he went, plant to plant, offering a friendly hello to each, by name.  He left no detail unchecked, no number unnoted.

Once finished, he packed the notebook away and pulled his essay from an inner pouch.  Knives laid a blanket out and climbed atop it, assuming the most humble position he'd thought of.  He knelt, then sat back on his heels, bending his head before him, until his face was a hand's length from the floor.  Setting the pages below his nose, he began to read slowly, pronouncing each word with vigor.  Like a composer proudly singing his latest work to a grand audience, he let his emotions and hopes beam forth through tone of voice and inflection.  He could only hope that they were reading his mind as well, to see the wonderful images he had invented.  

As he read through the last few lines, he forced his voice to slow, despite the excitement.  An inane smile spread across his lips as the final words slipped out, volume decreasing until the end.  Knives turned his eyes from the pages and folded his hands against his forehead.  "This I ask of each and all of you, with respect and endless affection.  Please, allow me to raise a plant child.  I desire…I need…a companion.  So badly.  Every fiber of my being demands that the loneliness cease.  Please.  Help me, if you agree with my need.  Thank you."

Knives paused, lifting his head slowly.  He swiveled to observe each bulb, noting that there were no apparent changes in temperature or light.  Perhaps they were thinking, pondering his words.  Perhaps they were ignoring him.  He couldn't be sure, and so he let their silence leave his thoughts.

He took out his dinner and spread it out atop the blanket.  Each piece of fruit and vegetable was set out in patterns, peas laid out in circles to the sides, strawberries laid in a sunburst pattern, and so on.  Once the meal was laid out, he again assumed his low bow and thanked the plants for the bounty.  "To you, my brethren, I submit my regret that I must sap some of your strength to prepare this food.  But since I must eat to live, I apologize heartily to those I may not grasp in a thankful embrace.  Please forgive me for my past sins to you and our race, and allow me to continue basking in your good grace.  For this I ask, as your humble servant and sibling."  Lifting his head, he again noted no changes in them.  They never seemed to respond to the meal prayer, yet he always chanted it before eating.

Assuming a more comfortable sitting position, Knives began his meal.  He ate slowly, though his belly ached from the hunger.  His manners were exquisite, to prove in every action that he was civilized and intelligent enough to deserve a companion.  All was to convince them, yet each thought that swept through his mind that even barely resembled assumption or pride was shoved away angrily.  How dare he think such things, he scolded himself mentally.  

The soft sound of chewing subsided for a moment, and was replaced by a chuckle.

Knives looked down at the strawberry between his fingers.  Strawberries reminded him of Vanessa.  He knew why they did, but kept himself from recalling the reasons since they were rather private.

Smiling, he closed his eyes and rolled the fruit in his palm.  He envisioned a plant child beside him, full grown and female.  She would not be deformed as Vanessa was, since he would make certain to extract the infant from the bulb as soon as possible.  Her hair would be blonde, he assumed, but the color didn't really matter.  She would be tall and slender, wearing a fitted dress she would make for herself.  Surely she would have a rosy-cheeked, happy disposition and lovely posture.  Unlike Vanessa, she wouldn't let her hair fall into her eyes all of the time, and would be completely without horrid memories.  Her skin would be flawless and soft, except for the occasional callous from work.

With great effort, he kept himself from reaching out to touch her.  Nevertheless, he kept the mental image of this great female.  "Can you see her?  In my mind?  Isn't she perfect?"

Skipping a few previously imagined interactions between himself and this fictional woman, because these scenes were far more private than the strawberry metaphor, Knives envisioned their children.  One by one he added the little ones, two grown sons, a grown daughter, an infant son, and one on the way.  The female's face glowed from the pregnancy they would create.  Knives sighed happily as he reveled in this fantasy.

After a moment, he opened his eyes, still smiling giddily.  "If you do provide a child, I understand that it will take an amount of time.  I will be patient.  Since you show no clear interest in these topics, I'll begin reading from an unrelated book, alright?"  Drawing a tattered novel from his pack, he popped the last of the strawberries into his mouth, wiped his fingers, and addressed them again.  "How does Poe sound?"

A familiar and comforting flow of heat began to radiate towards him, and the light brightened.  Before, it was almost too dim to read, but now he knew they were anticipating the stories.

He began to read a classic horror tale, because it was what they wanted.

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	11. CHAPTER FOUR: Pray to a Higher Power p...

CHAPTER FOUR:  Pray to a Higher Power 

PART THREE…Your Guess Is As Good As Mine… 

Millie cast a concerned look in her direction as she entered the room.  "He's been in the bathroom ever since he got off work, and that was hours ago!" she explained, moving to gather her coat.  "My lectures start in a few minutes, I'll see you later.  Tonight, back at our room, right?"

Meryl nodded.  "But if he's…you know…Well, then, I may not be back.  It depends.  But have a nice dinner without me, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."  Millie pulled on her coat and left.  "Poor Mr.Vash," she muttered to herself in the hall.

"Vash?"  Meryl knew he could hear her as she gently knocked at the door, but the long pause yielded no answer.  "Going to sit in there all night?"

He sniffled a couple times.  "I just need a minute longer, please."

Meryl sighed impatiently.  "I've got to pee, Vash.  Get out of there.  Now."

A high pitched, rather unmanly whine was followed by rustling.  The door finally opened.  Vash kept his face down.  "Hi, Meryl.  How was your day?"

"Pretty uneventful.  Now sit down and have a nice chat with me," she demanded, plopping into a seat and ushering towards the next.  "You've sulked long enough.  It's time to use your brain, buddy."

Vash stood there, contemplating his escape.  "I think I left something in the classroom.  I'll just go and…"

"Oh, that is the lamest yet.  Sit."  She was dead serious, and the stern stare she gave him melted his will.

He sat, removing the thick disguise glasses and resting his head in his hands.

"Good.  Now let's go over the facts again.  Something's bound to make sense...So the last time she was conscious was…23 days ago, right?  And did you notice anything strange then?"

"No, like I said before.  Really, I'd rather not talk right now, let me just-"

Meryl pounded the wall with her fist.  "Damn it, Vash, don't you care about her enough to figure it out?  Think about it calmly.  Me and Millie, we aren't knowledgeable at all about 'your kind'…we don't understand this.  But you can.  I know you can.  Just try a little harder and, for God's sake, let us know what you're thinking for once!"  She paused and relaxed a little, not wanting to toss him into another hopeless crying fit.  "All I'm saying is, if you go over what we DO know, you'll probably feel better.  It's not as bad as we think, probably."

"That's what I'm hoping," he mumbled.  "But don't think I haven't gone over everything, each detail in my mind, over and over…And nothing.  The more I think about it the worse I feel," he added, running a hand shakily through his mussed hair.

"Maybe you're thinking too hard then.  Tell me things, let me simplify them."

Vash glanced up with bloodshot eyes.  "I don't want to."

"Too damn bad."

"Didn't you say you had to go to the bathroom?"

"I lied.  It worked beautifully, didn't it."

He sighed miserably and again hid his eyes with his hands.  "Okay, fine.  Remember how she ate so much, without a clear weight gain?  Well, I think her body was storing energy in a very efficient, compact manner, such that when she went into this hibernation period, she'd have enough to feed the fetus."  After maintaining that scientific tone for long enough, his voice cracked.  "But she…she…"  Again, he began to sob, but couldn't retreat to solitude as he usually did.

Meryl scooted towards him and hugged him slightly.  "Calm down or I'll smack the Hell out of you.  And you know I'll do it, too."  She lifted his chin to face her, and waited until he breathed deeply and became calm.  "So, then.  If that's true, what about it's got you so upset?  Are you lonely, or is it bigger than that?"

"Oh…I'm lonely.  But it's not that.  She, um, she's just not…She doesn't seem quite healthy enough to be unconscious for so long.  She never ate enough to satisfy her hunger, remember?  And she was weak all the time.  She couldn't possibly have hidden away enough nutrition.  Her stomach's grown so incredibly much just in these past few weeks…She should give birth within a month, at this rate!  I'm afraid it'll…"

Not wanting to let him finish that sullen thought, Meryl changed the subject.  "I think her body's working to fix that, though.  I mean, considering that she never, um, you know."

Vash didn't respond.  That, too, was bothering him.  In over three weeks, Vanessa had hardly moved, and even then it was to roll over or breathe.  She hadn't changed otherwise.  Her body was frozen in time, without a need to be bathed, without the creation of waste products at all.  Even her muscle tone was the same, though one would expect weeks of stillness to make her body to weaken.  Not one flake of skin, nor a hair from her head fell.  It was a state between life and death, between sleep and nonexistence.

"Well, anyhow, I think if she needs more food she'll sit up and ask for some.  Don't worry.  We've saved up enough ration trays to feed an army!"  Requiring his attention, Meryl cleared her throat commandingly.  "Vash, she's fine.  We have no real reason to worry."

"Yes, I do," he whispered, wishing he hadn't said it aloud.  But now that he'd let it slip, he explained himself before Meryl yelled at him to do so.  "They call us 'the ones that live outside of time' for a reason, you know.  The plants are usually like she is now; they never really wake up.  She could stay like this forever."

Meryl slapped him, hard.  "You're not going to talk like that.  It's not going to happen, not now.  You just help us prepare for the birth and think about what you want to tell her when she's awake," she insisted softly.

Vash clutched the side of his head, gritting his teeth in pain.  "Ow, my ear!" he whined.  "That really hurt!"

"Of course it does!" she responded, folding her arms triumphantly.  "But you're not as worried or upset now, are you?"

Smirking a little, Vash nodded.  

Standing, Meryl brushed her hands of the aching questions and retrieved Vash's dinner.  "Now pretend you're happy like you did before, and eat a full meal for once.  Then, we can play some nice music.  I always heard that babies can hear music from within the womb, so we'll entertain the little one.  Agreed?"

Vash popped a half bar of granola into his mouth and looked up, nodding.  He turned to glance at Vanessa, as always on her spot on the bed, and returned to the meal.

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	12. CHAPTER FIVE: Miracle of Life

CHAPTER FIVE:  Miracle of Life 

PART ONE…Father-to-be Jitters… 

Cheeks red and glistening from labor, Vanessa peered up at Vash expectedly.  She lay breathless against the pillows, awaiting his answer.  When none came, she repeated herself.  "Is it a girl or a boy?  Well?  Vash?  What…What's wrong?"

Vash didn't reply, but rather returned to staring down at the warm, blanketed mass in his arms.  No words could explain to her the sheer horror he felt, a heavy guilt and fear that blurred his vision and took strength from his legs.  He folded the blanket over the child's head, wishing the soundless thing were dead.  Unfortunately, the poor thing was very much alive.

Vanessa's plaintive cries shook him from his stupor.  "Why won't it cry?  Give me my baby!" she begged, beginning to cry.

Pale and covered in a cold sweat, Vash turned to show her his serious expression.  "You need your rest," he choked out.  "I don't want you to get upset right now."

"Is it dead," she murmured calmly.  "Tell me now."

Vash shook his head slowly.

Running a hand roughly through her mussed hair, Vanessa's glazed eyes shone with anger.  "Give me my baby," she growled.  Shaking, she pulled herself forward and attempted to grab the child from him.  But she was too weak, and collapsed back onto the bed.  Chest heaving, her voice became sharper and louder.  "For the love of God, give me my baby!"

After a desperate moment of thought, Vash reluctantly rested the bundle beside her and seated himself on the bed nearby.  "Please Vanessa, don't…You're…"

  Ignoring his feeble words, she tugged the cloth from her newborn and at first seemed fine.  Then, the shock melted into sobbing.  Each sob was louder and caused a more severe trembling in her body than the last.  Silently, she conveyed her thoughts to his mind, casting the accusation and bitterness like stones.

Keeping himself from reaction, he took in the transmitted blurbs.  Frantically, she was telling him that he was never to touch her again, for fear that he might give her another child with such horrible deformities.  She clearly blamed herself as much as him for this result, but the ultimatums directed at him were most pressing.  They described how she never wanted to sleep with him again, nor live with him or see him.  She further began to mention that this was punishment for past sins and destruction.  When her thoughts turned against the heavens and God Himself, Vash broke down completely, sobbing alongside her even as she wished him to leave.

Gasping suddenly, Vash's eyes flew open and he found himself in the dark, still room.  His cheeks were tight from dried tears, and his body was sticky from sweat.  He sunk back into his pillow, turning to the wall as he calmed from the nightmare.

This time it had been born without a head, with tiny wings and a bulbous body, much like the growths the plant angels formed.  Before, it had been anything from a limbless creature to a stillborn baby, with black hair, severe deformities, or gaping wounds.  Once it had been born alive and as extensively scarred as its parents, and the other day it had even born an acute likeness to Knives, with a certainty to become the evil murderer himself.

But usually Vanessa wasn't awake in the nightmares.  Usually she was comatose completely, fulfilling Vash's fear that she might hibernate in a plant angel state forever.  If the child was to be born as deformed or tragic as in these dreams, Vash almost wished that Vanessa wouldn't awaken.

Images from the nightmares danced upon the blank wall.  Vash sighed, carefully turning from it so he wouldn't have to relive the terrible possibilities anymore.

Closing his eyes, he forced a smile and reached for her.  "Our baby will be fine," he whispered to himself, a mantra to ease his mind and perhaps hers as well.

His hands met nothing, and he scrambled to sit as he felt the warm spot under the sheets where she once lay.  "Vanessa?" he called hoarsely, not expecting an answer.  He stood and moved about the room, searching for her anywhere and everywhere without thinking to brighten the lights.  Finally, his bare foot met a bit of cloth on the floor that didn't belong.  Stooping to investigate, he found it to be her nightgown, still warm and smelling of her.

Vash gulped.  "Crap," he mumbled miserably, gathering his senses for a moment.  He rushed to grab a pair of jeans, preparing himself mentally for the crisis.

He decided he'd have to inform the authorities, to help him search for her kidnapper.

Tugging the leg of his pants on, a sharp pain rang out in his bladder.  "Gotta pee," he whispered idiotically, dashing for the bathroom and pulling on the jeans.  Without any remaining shred of patience, he mashed his hand against the entry pad.

The door didn't slide open like it should have.

He fiddled with the buttons a little, but still the door didn't budge.  Vash began to curse this technology, longing for the simple wooden doors of Gunsmoke, which could be unhinged or busted if stuck.  This heavy, metal door wouldn't reveal any clue, for through it Vash could neither tell if there was sound or light within.  He only knew that he had known no door on the ship to behave in this manner, except when it was locked from the inside.

Eyes widening in excitement, Vash glanced at the abandoned nightgown before returning his gaze to the bathroom door.  He preferred to think that she had locked herself in there than to assume that some stranger had kidnapped her.  Before he rushed out to search for her, he decided to get this door open and see for certain.

Seeing her conscious filled his heart with a happiness that was weakened only slightly by her silence.

Vanessa remained crouched in the shower, panting and groaning from pain.  She didn't speak to Vash, nor look at him, as he burst in and checked her vitals.  When he grabbed her wrist away from her chest, she tugged it back defensively.

He even tried to clothe her a bit, but she recoiled, and resisted his attempts to move her from the shower.  From the way she held her stomach and breathed, he assumed she was in labor.  But she gave him no proof that she was aware of her surroundings.  Certainly, she had been alert enough to walk to the bathroom, disrobe, and lock the door, but now she seemed completely opposed to his touch.

As if in a deep, meditative state, she strained her muscles and lungs rhythmically.

Vash hesitated to leave her alone, but exited the room momentarily, just long enough to call up the girls and ask for their help.  He didn't betray the details, but merely urged them to help in the birth, which he was fairly sure would occur soon.

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	13. CHAPTER FIVE: Miracle of Life part 2

CHAPTER FIVE: Miracle of LifePART TWO…Welcome, Little One…

Meryl landed hard, on her ass, against Vash's legs. She lingered there angrily, fists pressed against the cool bathroom floor. Her eyes would not leave the quaking woman before her, in the shower stall.

"Are you okay?" Millie stooped down to help her small friend to her feet. "You know, I don't think we ought to try that anymore."

Vash nodded solemnly as he also helped her up, and stopped chewing his lip long enough to comment. "If she wants to be there so badly, there's no reason to move her. And no reason to get all bruised up over it," he added, referring to the growing violence of Vanessa's blind swings and shoves in response to their helpful tugs.

Meryl continued to glare at the naked woman, shaking with frustration. "Dammit," she growled between gritted teeth.

"Getting all angry isn't going to help anything," Millie offered, touching her shoulder softly. "After all, it's not like she meant to. Like Mr. Vash said, she's probably acting on instinct now. She's not aware of us being here, I don't think."

As stubborn and hot-headed as she was, Meryl simply nodded. She didn't have the heart to explain herself. It was better for now that she allow Vash to believe Vanessa was as unaware as he claimed. Things were already strange and climactic enough, and the last thing Meryl wanted to do was upset Vash further. Consciously dropping her gaze, she looked beside her to see Vash peering compassionately into her eyes. She felt her face grow hot from his attention.

The corner of his mouth curled and his eyebrows furrowed seriously. He pulled a little towel from the sink beside him and held it to Meryl's face. "She sure slugged you good, huh?" he asked softly.

Meryl hesitated, then turned to the mirror. A trickle of blood ran from her nostril, a sticky souvenir from Vanessa's last, hard slap. "Um, yeah. I guess so," she mumbled, taking the towel to blot her upper lip.

Vash turned from Meryl and knelt just outside the shower. Longing to do so much as to hold Vanessa's hand in support, he was forced to sit there and wait for the birth. If only she could speak to him or allow his touch, to give him reassurance of her consciousness. However, she was acting this strangely, and he could only assume her actions to be similar to the plant angels' during labor. Yes, surely this was as it should be, he told himself.

He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and watched her.

This strong, haunted woman he had fallen for, after spending so many painful hours and weeks with, after having impregnated and emigrated with – that woman was so unyielding now. Vanessa was not herself. How could Vash have his happy family, with Vanessa as distant and unpredictable as this?

Forcing the fear from his mind, he counted the growing pace of her labored breaths, measuring the intensity of her shivers and the urgency of her groans.

Hours later, Vanessa's groans became stifled screams of pain, which Millie interpreted easily.

"She's pushing!" she claimed excitedly. "Here it comes! Here it comes!"

Meryl's anger still had not fully subsided. "So she's going to drop it right onto the cold hard floor?" she asked incredulously.

Millie shoved a bundle of towels into Vash's line of sight. "Slide these under her! Hurry!"

Vash obeyed, but didn't feel it so odd as they did. After all, he remembered Rem telling of how he and Knives had been born, dropped onto the bulb surface without injury. That distance had been a more dramatic fall than this would be, considering that Vanessa was crouching low to the ground.

Vanessa didn't fight him, being fully preoccupied as the towels brushed against her ankles.

In a scene far more absurd and awkward than they realized, the girls dropped to the floor, ducking their heads low to the ground to peer at the action. "Oh my God, here comes the head!" Meryl shrieked.

Vash found his hand involuntarily moving towards Vanessa, desperately wanting to cup the tiny head in his palm and help the body ease from her. However, once his hand touched her thigh she swung at him, half-punching, half-slapping him sharply on the shoulder. He drew his hand back, leaning forward onto his palms as he watched. "Vanessa," he whispered, becoming lost in the magic unfolding before his nervous eyes.

Heady breathing and anxious cries filled the bathroom as the child exited the womb and dropped onto the towels. The task now complete, the mother fell back against the shower wall and whimpered softly.

The bloodied little person wriggled a little, and then began a soft, gargled cry. The crying became clearer and relieving, prompting the father to reach forward and touch his new daughter.

"Tessla," he whispered breathlessly as the tears poured from his eyes. Blinking hard, he brought the tender bundle of towels and flesh to his chest. "Oh, Tessla, Tessla…" Vash held the little squinting face towards the girls seated at his left. "Look at her!" he choked out happily.

Millie nodded, also crying.

Meryl was happy, but her questions seemed pressing. "Um, Vash? Why isn't there an umbilical cord? Er…uh…or an, um, placenta?" she stammered curiously.

Vash returned to staring lovingly into this wrinkly, angelic face. Giggling nervously, he brushed the concern aside easily. "We don't have them…Oh, gosh…" he murmured in awe at the new plant child.

Vanessa's background whimpering subsided and she seemed calm. Sweat rolled from her face and body, going as ignored as the blood drying onto her thighs. Swallowing gently, she breathed heavily as her worn body relaxed.

"We're parents!" Vash whispered to her, trying not to let his tears fall onto the child. "Vanessa? Can't you hear me now? It's a girl, just like you said she'd be! Tessla! C'mon, please open your eyes and look at her, she's gorgeous! Or…or at least hold her," he insisted, edging towards her and offering the bundle.

Whether unconscious or not, Vanessa made no move to accept the infant.

Tessla's crying had stopped for a while, but now the wailing began, more intense as though a response to this rejection.

Vanessa's closed eyelids tightened and her eyebrows came together momentarily in reply to this sudden sound.

Vash couldn't let this ruin his happiness. He rose and moved to the sink, already full of warm water. Millie helped him gently wash Tessla, sniffing away happy tears. Once the newborn was clean, they wrapped her in the softest blankets and cuddled her softly.

Hesitating suddenly, Vash handed his daughter to Millie and turned to clean Vanessa. He washed the sweat and blood from her weakened body with a soapy towel now that she didn't react with violence. Once she was washed, Vash lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed, tucking her now shivering, naked body under the covers.

Millie followed and returned the bundle to him, loving every moment of Vash's fatherly pride.

Vash sat on the floor beside the bed and held his child, crying and grinning madly with the excitement of two parents, attempting to compensate for the complete lack of Vanessa's emotions.

"Think we should leave?" Meryl whispered to Millie, growing uncomfortable and feeling rather unneeded.

Millie thought. "Say, Mr. Vash, would you like us to leave, or do you think you'll need our help still?" she asked sweetly.

Wiping the moisture from his cheeks, Vash smiled. "Oh, thank you both so much. I'm so sorry I made you miss so much sleep – go on ahead and rest. I can take things from here."

The girls nodded and said their goodbyes, filled with wonder and an eerie apprehension.

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	14. CHAPTER FIVE: Miracle of Life part 3

CHAPTER FIVE:  Miracle of Life 

_PART THREE…Calm Your Mind, If You Can…_

An adorable blush passed over Vash's cheeks, accentuating the red tinge to his sleepy eyes.  He pulled the now empty bottle from his daughter's lips and prepared to burp her over his shoulder.  "Gosh, you guys, that's kind of private, you know?"

Meryl rolled her eyes and sighed.  "It's not like we're asking whether you wear boxers or briefs, here, Vash.  These are some really weird circumstances from our point of view, and we're just looking to understand your…um…your 'kind' better."

Less than 24 hours had passed since Tessla's introduction, but the girls' curiosity was too strong to wait.  They'd called in sick, as Vash had, and rushed over to check on him.  To their dismay and horror, Vanessa was still unconscious, and had still made no move to greet her child.

"Yeah," Millie added, trying to think of her biology lessons.  "Because I thought all mammal babies had umbilical cords.  Maybe my professor was wrong."

"Nah.  He was right."  Vash grinned, awaiting the wet little burp behind his ear before he brought the child back into his arms.  "In mammals, the fertilized embryo implants into the mother's womb and it forms a placenta and the cord to connect to the mother.  In mammals, the exchange between the mother and fetus is through the cord, a direct blood exchange.  And once mammals are born, they drink the mother's milk.  But we're not mammals.  Not exactly."

Millie looked baffled, but Meryl was following him.  She narrowed her eyes in thought and continued her questions in this more impersonal way.  "You…I mean, the plants…don't produce breast milk?  You don't have a belly button?"  She paused, brushing the memory of seeing him shirtless, after that shower years ago, aside.  "I mean, a guy without a naval?  That's odd."

Vash unfolded the blanket a little to reveal his daughter's tender stomach.  "See?  We do have belly buttons, but they're for show.  So to speak.  And just like these, female plants develop breasts, but it seems that they're nonfunctional, too."  He stared down at Tessla's pink, delicate skin lovingly for a moment, then looked back up.  "Does that make sense?"

"Ooh, ooh…I know!" Millie suddenly exclaimed.  "So, inside the plant mom, there's a little bulb instead of a placenta, and the baby grows inside it?  Otherwise, I don't understand how it can grow."

"I doubt there's a bulb.  Bulbs are made of a thick, processed material.  I guess the nutrition transfer is through osmosis instead."  He noted the continued confusion upon Millie's face and simplified his theory.  "It's like if the baby's separate from the mother's cells, and the mother's cells surrounding the baby feed it by letting the baby's cells soak in nutrition directly from the mother's cells."

After a moment, Millie nodded.

"And do you have a theory to explain why she's like this?  And why she's BEEN like this for so long?" Meryl asked a bit too quickly, nodding her head in Vanessa's direction.

Vash's face dulled some, and he avoided turning to see Vanessa, knowing she would be distant.  "Yes, I think I do."  He cleared his throat, assembling his words and separating thoughts from emotions before speaking.  "When pregnant, we plants must need to store energy from food much more efficiently.  Something instead of fat, so we don't notice it visually.  And there's a much bigger need for food.  When we couldn't provide what was needed, her body must have begun to dip into the child's supply of stored energy, and in order to maintain equilibrium between them, she went into that state of hibernation.  But since she needed muscle use to give birth, her body moved like it did to a more bulb-like environment, namely the shower.  Plant angels don't receive physical help when they give birth, as far as I know, and she was protecting herself from everyone.  She…uh…I don't think she needed our help.  Really, if I'd been able to, I should've put her into a bulb for the whole thing.  Probably that's what she needed."

The growing sadness in his voice prompted Meryl to again lash out against the situation.  "Don't be ridiculous, Vash.  What we did was the best we could, and besides the food problem, we offered everything we should have.  Cut this guilt crap.  YOU were perfect."  Again, she turned to glare at Vanessa, only able to see the back of her head.  "Too bad she's not as mature about this as you are."

Millie gasped.  "Meryl!  What in the world?"

Vash attempted to ignore the comment.  "I'm hoping she doesn't remain unconscious," he murmured, hoping that revealing his fear would erase Meryl's accusation.

"No, she'll have to show herself when she gets too hungry to pretend anymore," Meryl snarled, scrambling for relevant insults.  She hoped that verbal attacks would rouse Vanessa and prove it for them.

"Stop that.  You know she's only doing what she has to," Vash retorted protectively.

Meryl shook her head.  "Sorry to burst the bubble, Vash, but I highly doubt that.  Yesterday, just as she smacked me and shoved me away the last time, she looked at me."

Millie stood and grabbed Meryl's arm firmly.  Face red with embarrassment, she tried to lift her friend up and get out of there before more harm could be dished out.  "Sorry, Mr. Vash.  Let's GO, Meryl."

"I'm serious, she opened her eyes just a little, and I swear, she glared at me!" she insisted, reluctantly allowing herself to be tugged towards the door.  "She knew we were there, and she was pissed!  How dare you, Vanessa!  I mean, don't you think you're being awfully cruel to him?"

A few more things were yelled, but as the door slid shut, nothing more could be heard clearly.

Vash hugged his daughter for comfort, but he doubted Meryl was lying.  "Vanessa?" he asked feebly.  "I know you're tired.  You don't have to explain yourself if you don't want to.  But please, just let me know you can hear me so I don't have to have anymore nightmares.  Please."  He paused, turning his chair to face her.  Moments passed, and she didn't stir.  Vash stood, and seated himself beside her on the bed.

Turning her over, he studied her face, measuring her pulse at the neck.  The beats were quick, and grew quicker as he waited.

Scowling, he reached for her least scarred eyelid and lifted it.

The pupil drew smaller as light filled her sight, and she could no longer fake her slumber.  She glanced at him before involuntarily pulling her head from his hand.

"You can hear me, and you could hear us, huh?"

Slowly, she nodded, eyes closed, head against the pillow.  She pulled the covers closer, past her chin.

"And you could show me, and talk to me, but you don't want to, huh?" he asked, voice cracking.

Again, she nodded, burying her bitter face into the pillow.

Vash's lip quaked, and he choked back another batch of tears.  In front of his daughter, he wished to hide anger and sorrow.  For her sake, as he told himself, he would have to remain calm and wait this out.

After he had moved from the bed, Vanessa took a deep breath.  "I didn't want them there," she whispered, quite hoarse.  "It was so wrong of you."

He began to argue, but closed his mouth.

"I'm hungry, but I can't move that far," she continued.  "Please give me something to eat and drink."

Vash obeyed, fetching her two ration trays, holding back emotion.

Vanessa's hand shook with exhaustion as she reached for the food.  Before shoving a handful into her mouth, she added one last demand.  "And let me see my daughter."

Setting the little bundle against her chest, Vash hesitated, feeling confused, helpless, angry, beaten, and awkward all at once.  He finally settled upon a position, sitting at the table with his back to her, not looking but able to act should he hear the need.

Vash wished for peace and happiness above all.  He wanted her to stop this, and to continue the harmony of his hopes.  "Vanessa, I love you," he offered softly, without facing her.

Her only replies were the soft sounds of chewing. 

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	15. CHAPTER SIX: Lord, Have Mercy

**CHAPTER SIX:  LORD, HAVE MERCY**

PART ONE…Bigger Than You… 

In a city as big as Inepril, one would expect to find a wealth of useful items in the various abandoned shops.  However, considering the plants' production standstill, sands and the winds that carried them were claiming the ruins and devouring all that the humans had left behind.  Whatever buildings not coated in fresh sand dunes were the best bet for scavenging.  In these, under a thick layer of dust and grit, remnants of past lives and a few products remained.  Most food products and perishables had long since fallen into rot.   Canned foodstuffs were safe.

Knives thought it hypocritical to use that which the humans had produced using plants, but some practical actions eased his conviction.  For instance, if one day the geoplants failed him, he may need a store of food to live on until they could be brought back online.  Therefore, he collected canned vegetable and fruit products, as well as dried rice and jam preserves, which he stored in his shelter.  This he accomplished before the sands claimed the old marketplaces and grocery stores.

Plenty of canned meats awaited use, and luckily so.

Doing so placed a major dent in his planned plant visits, but still Knives foraged for the canned meats all day.  In buildings so damaged and smothered by the planet's forces, it was all too difficult to find them, and so he chose to remove all such goods.  The stacks and piles filled his toma-drawn cart completely, until the beasts could hardly pull the load.  By then, Knives was coated in grime and sweat.

Not a moment could be wasted.  It was already dusk, and the chill began.

He immediately went to them, leading the tomas on foot.  

Moving closer into the city, nearer to the plants, the desolation lessened.  Around the bulbs in a 500-meter radius, the winds weren't so harsh, proof that the plants were still active.  Here, survival was still possible.  And, strangely enough, they had survived here all these months without his help.

Knives wiped his brow, a strong sense of purpose in his heart.  They needed his help desperately.

Soft mewing grew in his ears until a scraggly body appeared.  This was the friendliest one, the only one which allowed Knives to come so near.  It seemed a male, large yet painfully thin, with dirty white fur spotted in orange.  His whiskers were tattered, eyes full of mucous from the harsh air.  If it weren't for this cat, Knives would never have found the lot of them, nor felt that twang of pity that led him to bring these meats for them all.

The cat couldn't come far to greet him, being malnourished and sickly as the others.  He simply sat, blinking, hoping.

In reply, Knives stopped the cart and pulled a few cans from the piles.  He carved them open, pouring the contents onto a scrap bit of metal nearby.  Tucking his pocketknife back into his jeans, he stepped back and waited.

That male cat stepped closer and ate frantically.  The others stared on from the distance, too frightened of the man to step forward.

Knives sighed and rolled his eyes at their ignorant distrust.  He tied up the tomas at the plant hitching post a few meters away and returned to watching the cat eat.  Sitting in the dust, he unslung his canteen and sipped quietly.

After a few more minutes, the other feral cats slowly stepped out, hunger overtaking fear.  Partaking in the meal that saved their lives, they feasted.  Every morsel disappeared, and they slunk away with bellies full.

Smiling, Knives rose and entered the plant complex, to make his adjustments and ultimately to fall asleep in the plants' soft glow.

Long fingers of sunlight streamed through the high windows of the plant complex, wrenching Knives from his pleasant dreams.  He yearned to slumber longer, but the day beckoned and the extensive chores he needed to catch up on awaited him.  After munching on the lasts bits of fresh produce from his garden, he rose to walk the long iles home.

His footsteps thudded in the vast, open space, towards the door.  But he didn't remember leaving it ajar.

Instinctively, he looked about, as though people may actually be hiding there.  Dropping his bag at the doorway, he turned and searched the building, owing it to his brethren to keep all vermin away.

At a point, he stopped and became silent, leaning miserably against the cold steel wall.  He frowned, reflecting on the solitude.  Here he was, abandoned by his only sentient family, left alone to care for the hidden remainder.  And to what end?  To receive no sign of a plant angel's pregnancy (as promised, he reminded himself), and to be reduced to the humble task of chasing down stray creatures in the plant buildings.  It was necessary, yet somehow beneath him.  After all, this intruder was most likely just one of the cockroaches or lizards or rats that managed to survive the recent planetary hardships.

Taking a deep breath and holding it fast, he closed his eyes and listened.  Small squeaks led him to a far corner.  Here, one of those feral cats was in labor.  The cat was clearly in great pain and exhaustion, such that it didn't resist when Knives seated himself nearby and began to stroke its back.

Two tiny rat-like bodies lay beside the mother cat, squeaking softly and moving barely.  And from the looks of the mother, there were more on the way, but seemed obstructed.

Knives felt the cat's stomach and carefully searched for the cause of her suffering.  It seemed one kitten was caught in the birth canal.

Pausing, he wondered why he should care.  What did it matter, if these creatures died.  What had they ever done for him?

But pity took over, and he found himself massaging the mother, easing the trapped inner bulge towards her tail.  After twenty silent minutes, the slimy thing dropped out.

It wasn't moving.

Knives took it from the mother, who had begun to lick at the offspring, and rubbed the tiny body.  In his palms, he rubbed it into movement, vigorously and stubbornly until the thing finally cried out.

Sighing relief, he watched the births of the next and final three.

He took off his shirt and wrapped the little things in it for warmth.  Their health and that of the mother was poor, and it was too cold here.  He found an old box and lid, poked breathing holes in the sides, and loaded the new family inside.  They would fare best in his home.

And besides, he needed someone to talk to.

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	16. CHAPTER SIX: Lord, Have Mercy part2

**CHAPTER SIX: Lord, Have Mercy**

PART TWO…Breaking Character… 

His first fear was the loss of the plants.  His second was the fear of becoming that which he despised.

The humans simply didn't understand how to care for an environment and its species.  He felt that he did understand, proving it by feeding any creatures he came across.  They were few and sickly, numbers having been cut by the drastic loss of water and shelter.  After the plants ended mass production, thanks to Knives, life on Gunsmoke became far too fragile.

A human wouldn't have cared for any creature that did not give him benefit.  Knives considered himself totally separate from this philosophy, and as a result he inconvenienced himself oftentimes.

Though caring for the cats was an unwelcomed chore, it was his duty somehow.

And the benefits they provided him were great, and unrealized.

The cats' fur stood on end as Knives' sudden movement startled them.  Their chins bore little bits of processed meat and beads of water, their eyes wide.  They anticipated action somehow, tearing them from their supper.

Having knocked his chair from behind him, Knives, standing, breathed in sharply.  After a moment he remembered to breathe, feeling dizzy from the transmission.  "I'm coming," he whispered urgently.  He rushed for his cloak and ran to the tomas.  Hastily, he harnessed them to the cart, hoping they'd eaten sufficiently to run the distance.

And so, in the middle of their dinner, the master left his table and his meal uneaten.  All the cats but one returned to eating.  The runt liked to ride along on these arduous plant visits.

It dashed after the master, mewing to ask assistance into the cart.

"Damn it, Nuisance," Knives cursed, nevertheless lifting the fur ball into the cart behind him.

As they sped away, two cats leapt onto the table.  Idiot and Rat took turns sniffing his plate, until they turned their noses from his vegan meal and dropped once more to the floor.

Nuisance trotted alongside Knives as he stamped into the plant complex.  She wasn't sure what the problem was, but was far too curious to wait outside.  There was an excitement in the air, a strong anticipation built from months of loneliness.  Perhaps today he would find what he had been mourning for.

She sauntered up the catwalk, towards where Knives had stopped.  To the tapping of the keyboard, she entwined his ankles, allowing her bushy tail to linger for too long.  Expecting his foot to shove her away as usual, Nuisance prepared to dash away, thinking it all a marvelous game.

The nudge never came, because Knives' heart was pounding too hard for the outside world to matter at all.  His universe consisted of heartbeats now, his own and those of his brethren, and most importantly of the plant before him.  

This plant angel, Tzadkiel – her heart raced faster than it ought.  Her vitals were far from when he'd last altered them, just a few days ago.  Something was truly the matter, and Knives feared he could do nothing to help.

Falling to his knees, Knives put his arms out to brace his body.  He suddenly felt faint, head swimming with guilt and anxiety.  Tears would fall, but that he was too stunned to cry.

Things had progressed so smoothly until then.  Knives had kept equilibrium amongst all plants, such that had never been reached on Gunsmoke before.  He'd assumed himself the perfect keeper of these beings.  He, the one who could not fail.  Yet now, the change was so extreme that even he was powerless to help her.

A plant in such a state of shock was a sure sign of an explosion.  But how could Knives convince himself to flee and abandon her and the others?  And on the other hand, how could he allow himself, the sole aid to his bulbed brethren, to be consumed in such an explosion?

Nuisance purred to sooth him, rubbing roughly against his elbow.  When no reaction came, she looked into his face with wide eyes and let a wavering mew.

Rising from his stupor somewhat, Knives looked to the cat, throat tight.  "What if she dies?" he sputtered.  It didn't matter that he was speaking to an animal anymore.  Solitude and silence was too frightening to bear these days.  "This is serious!"

The cat stared into his welling eyes for a moment before turning in ignorance.  Again, she began to rub against him and coo softly.

So it went for a good few minutes, Knives gasping for breath in a sea of pulses, his lowly companion vying for attention.  The scene was futile, and so Tzadkiel sought to end it.

With a great warmth and light she descended, slowly unfurling her massive plumage.  Her core connection bodies stretched to lower her, such that her face was nearly level with him.  She stared with pupiless, unblinking eyes, waiting for him to realize the cause of her discrepancy.

Knives reached towards her, pressing his palms onto the smooth, warm surface of the bulb.  He paused, waiting for this hallucination to end.  It did not, because this was real.  Yes, she was.  Tzadkiel was with child.

But this simply wasn't feasible!  After all, she was at normal health just days ago.  Nevertheless, now she was visibly pregnant, belly protruding to nearly full term.  Truly, she appeared ready to give birth at any moment.

Only after the plant ascended and coiled onto itself once more could Knives gather his senses.  He shivered relief.  So it was true – they would give him a companion.  Finally, there would be a fellow plant child.  Dreams became reality.  Despair became hope.  Knives became ecstatic.

He lost his composure to celebration.  Beginning to giggle nervously, he kissed the bulb.  "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you," he chanted, until his words lost meaning and he was yelling.  He stood, pressing his arms around the bulb in an attempted hug.  But it wasn't what he needed.

Feeling an inexplicable need to share his joy with something visceral, Knives turned to find Nuisance.  She was crouched on the catwalk several meters away, back arched, tail puffed.  His actions frightened her, and only after he stopped to catch his breath and calm down a bit did she soften.

Knives lifted her gingerly into his arms and pressed her warm little body into his neck.  Ignoring the fur sticking to his face, he rubbed his cheek against her forehead.  It was all he could do not to crush her to death.  "Nuisance, I'm finally going to get a child," he explained aloud.  "Finally…"  Holding her out at arm's length, he began to chuckle.  "How about that!"

Cradling Nuisance in one arm, he turned to the plants and bowed his head, remembering his place in this hierarchy.  "Thank you all.  I will not let this gift and opportunity go unappreciated.  You won't come to regret this, I promise.  Tzadkiel, I hope you're well enough – I have to attend to the others, as scheduled.  But when the time comes, please let me know somehow, so that I may extract the child before deformity has the chance to set in.  In an instant, I will come at once.  Thank you.  Thank you so much."

With that, Knives turned, cat in arm.  He went about his plans, visiting the day's last plant complex for adjustments before returning to the shelter.  Sleep was out of the question, so he kept up most of the night, gushing happiness to his little creatures.

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	17. CHAPTER SEVEN: Dangerous Truths

**CHAPTER SEVEN:  Dangerous Truths**

_PART ONE…Sweet Charity…_

"Really, Meryl.  If they're such a problem for you, you shouldn't invest so much of your time helping them out.  After all, they ought to just go to the medical bay – instead of calling you two over to tend to them."  Salem shook his head, gripping her hands more tightly.  "Friends don't demand stuff like this of one another, you know."

Meryl rolled her eyes.  "You just don't understand!  They're weird people, and their religious beliefs won't let them…In good conscience, we can't just…ah…Oh, forget it."  She tugged her hands from his stubbornly and wrinkled her nose.  "It's none of your business if we want to help them out this much."

Salem stood from the bed and paced.  "And I can't meet these deeply religious weirdoes because…?  Why, Meryl?"  He turned, making a sour face.  "You're not cheating on me, right?"

Laughing sharply, Meryl shook her head.  "Yeah, right.  Seriously, Salem.  They simply need our help.  And they'll only accept ours because they trust us.  They don't trust strangers.  Strangers like you.  No offense, but we've known them for a hell of a lot longer than anyone else, including you."

"No shit."  Salem suddenly became serious, adopting a deep tone.  "Yesterday, I went to meet this Vash guy, after his afternoon class.  Really friendly guy, very polite and loved by many of his students.  But that was at first…He certainly seemed uncomfortable when I mentioned your name.  Tell me Meryl, why is that?"

"Because his wife doesn't want us over, I think," she explained, brushing his comments aside.  "She's a strange one.  Not really friendly."

"Vanessa?" he asked, remembering Meryl's vague comments in the past.  "And that's because she has a long history of abuse from strangers, right?  Wait, did you say wife?  She's not his wife.  Right?"

Meryl nodded.  "But she may as well be."

"Religious but they're not married.  That's freakin weird."

Again, she nodded, looking away.  "Regardless, it's true."

Holding the bottle to Tessla's mouth, Vash turned onto his side on the bed.  "Done yet?" he asked hopefully.

Vanessa didn't pause her relentless tapping at the keyboard.  "Nearly," she murmured.

"'Cause I'd really like to have the girls over, and I was thinking-"

Scowling, she tapped a few more times and stopped.  She let her weary arms fall to her sides, leaning against the chair.  "Bringing them into this is trouble enough.  No one's coming over until we have this squared away.  And, unfortunately, because you've chosen to let them know so much more than they ought, they'll need to be briefed as well."

"I still don't see what's got you so frazzled," he whined.  "I mean, it's not like they didn't already know we were plants.  As for Tessla, they had to know, so they would help us out.  The details didn't change a thing."  He took the empty bottle from his daughter and wiped her lips.  "Isn't that right, baby bear?" he asked in a playful voice, tickling the tiny child until she giggled.  "You're people too!"

"No we're not," Vanessa quipped.  "And, nothing changed?  Wrong again, Vash.  For one thing, it was a matter of privacy.  And more importantly, witnessing it all dehumanized us completely.  The less human we seem to them, the less respect we hold, in their eyes.  They know we're not human.  We're not mammals.  But now they've seen excellent examples of how very different we are.  Subtle, but it's a very big deal."

"They also witnessed what I can do, what I did to the moon," Vash whispered reverently.  "But still, they didn't abandon me.  It was difficult for them to not see me as a monster, but they don't anymore."

"This isn't getting us anywhere.  What's done is done."  She turned from the projection screen and addressed him more directly, staring blankly, as always.  "Luckily, we have an alibi, of sorts."  Tossing a little box to him, she waited.

He caught it easily in his hand, and read the label.  Vash's face went white.  "You…uh…You…Oh, my God, Vanessa…"

She blinked several times, unable to see him clearly enough.  "Don't assume, Vash.  I never used them.  The important thing is that they don't know that.  According to the preexisting medical records, just before we boarded I was healthy and pregnant, and before I left the exam I asked for the pills.  Good thing I did, it seems."

Vash sat up, holding Tessla close to his heart.  "Good thing?  Abortion pills, a good thing?  For Christ's sake…"

"A good thing, because we can claim that the pregnancy was never brought to full term.  So far as the records will show, I never gave birth on the ship.  I terminated the pregnancy, and so we will avoid the question of why our daughter is developed, when we leave the ship."

"We'll still have Tessla.  She wasn't with us when we boarded."

Vanessa nodded slowly.  "Yes, she was.  This computer system is nearly hack-proof.  Nearly.  Now, according to all official data, we boarded with a six-year-old girl, who will – as shall be visibly true – be around eight when we land about a year from now.  This will have to be confirmed by the girls, now that they're a part of our lives."

"Right.  I'll tell them; they won't let anyone find out," he agreed, remembering to burp Tessla as he thought.  "But the pills, Vanessa.  You expect me to believe you thought this far ahead?  And that that was the only reason you asked for these?"

"No, it wasn't the only reason, but it was one of them," she answered, choosing to stare off at the wall instead of at Vash.  "There were several reasons why I may've taken them.  For instance, what if we were discovered before, and I had reason to believe that she would be born only to serve as a guinea pig to them?  Or if the pregnancy were to commence in such an abnormal manner that it could alarm people of our nature?  I'm not one to allow sloppiness in these matters.  I had to protect us.  I did.  I am."

Vash frowned, pausing to reflect on the negative aspects of her plan.  "What about Tessla?  For the next year she'll grow so rapidly, but she's not going to appear six until at least seven more months, you know."

"She's not our daughter until she does.  Until then, if anyone ever sees her, she's not ours.  She's a friend's."

"She needs to mingle with the other children," Vash demanded.  "I can't let her stay in here for the first year of her life."

Vanessa shrugged.  "If you think of enough explanations for where this girl came from and why her real parents aren't around, you can have her amongst the children.  Otherwise, it's in everyone's best interests that she remain away from suspicious eyes.  This isn't the ideal situation.  We can't make it ideal, Vash."

"I wish we could," He replied, gazing into the innocent face in his arms.  "I'll do the best I can for you, Tessla."

Standing, Vanessa wobbled over to the bed, crawling into it to regain her strength.  She breathed heavily, proof that she was still weary from the birth.  Pulling the covers about her tightly, she turned to Vash and Tessla.  "Do your best Vash, but one little mistake will ruin her life forever."

Vash laid beside her, laying their now sleeping daughter between them.  "She deserves more than my best," he whispered, watching them as they slept.  He waited until Vanessa was deeply asleep before opening the communications circuit to Meryl.

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	18. CHAPTER SEVEN: Dangerous Truths part 2

**CHAPTER SEVEN:  Dangerous Truths**

_PART TWO…Isn't She Lovely…_

Squeezing Salem's arm, she raised her other hand to wave.

"Hi, Meryl!" Vash called as he rushed to their table.

Meryl watched her boyfriend shake Vash's fake hand.  She flinched, hoping he wouldn't notice any part of Vash's physical strangeness.  But then, with a mere handshake, how could anyone?

Vash sat, wearing that false smile.  After all these years, Meryl was too familiar with the smirk, and hated the look of it.

"Salem, honey, could you please get our trays?" Meryl asked sweetly.

Without hiding his irritation, he stood, casting a slightly accusative glance at the blonde man his girlfriend was so happy to see.  He patted Meryl's shoulder.  "Sure thing, honey," he added a bit sarcastically.  Hadn't he already told her not to call him honey?

Once Salem was out of sight, Meryl leaned in to Vash and hurriedly attempted to force the information from him.  "Has she told you anything yet?"

Vash nodded, the shielding smirk never fading.

"So I was right, she was conscious?  And angry at us?"

Tracing a circle onto the table, Vash's weak voice attempted to lie.  "Not angry, just…um…Well, it's a matter of privacy, and…Because of what we are, she…"

Meryl sighed, and would've pounded him for the fibs if she weren't filled with pity.  "What do we have to do to earn some trust?  We took her in, haven't told your secrets to anyone and won't…I mean, really!"

Vash's face pouted and still avoided her stare.  "Yeah.  I know.  But regardless, there's a lot of things we need you and Millie to know.  Stuff like that you can't tell anyone we have Tessla.  I mean, you can, but you have to say she's around six, and that we had her when we boarded."

"Right.  But I'll try not to say anything until she looks that age.  Salem would want to meet her, and he can't yet."

Nodding, Vash raised his gaze to the time display across the room and then returned to look to Meryl.  "There's a lot of other details, too, but…"

They grew quiet as Salem approached.  Each took their respective ration trays and ate.

"So," Salem began, clearing his throat, "How's Vanessa?"

At first, Vash didn't reply, but then, hesitating, he choked out an answer.  "Oh, Vanessa.  Yeah, yes, she's doing much better now."  Vash paused, smiling, before returning to his meal.

"Good to hear," Salem noted.  "Meryl's always telling me about her, and how badly she's had things lately."

Vash glanced at Meryl.  "She has?  Well, yeah, Vanessa's a real trooper."

"Hopefully she can heal up soon," Meryl piped in.  "Anyhow, Salem and I were wondering about your class, Vash.  How-"

"Just a second, Meryl," Salem interrupted.  "Vash, if I may ask, what exactly has Vanessa been ailed with?  I can probably get some specific advice from some friends of mine, to help I mean.  Funny, that Meryl won't give any details, huh?"

Chuckling softly, Vash stuffed a large spoonful of yogurt into his mouth.  He took the opportunity to stall.  Once swallowed, he breathed in sharply.  "Well, it's not just one thing, really.  It's all acquired from before liftoff.  But we'd rather not let everyone know."

Meryl's eyebrows lifted.  "Well, and it's not as if she wants everyone to feel sorry for her, so naturally it's pretty rude to tell, Salem," she added.

Salem sighed, peeling back the wrapper on his vegetable paste.

Suddenly, Vash's chewing halted.  He sat upright in response to the approaching tapping, a sound both familiar and wholly unexpected.

Meryl's expression also paled as she stared up into the scarred face.

Stray strands of long, white blonde hair did little to hide the marks upon her eyelids and cheek.  The winding scars disappeared beneath the neckline of her dress, hinting at their true extent.  Her cheeks were flushed from the effort of coming this far, but her thin form betrayed nothing of the pregnancy.  Leaning heavily against her cane, Vanessa squinted hard to determine the identity of the third party as she moved forward.

Vash stood and rushed to her side, helping her over while whispering hurriedly into her covered ear.  "Where's Tessla?  Back in the room?  We can't leave her alone, you have to, er, I'm going back, um, but, so we don't seem suspicious, we…um-"

Wrapping her free arm across his back, Vanessa, too, leaned in to whisper.  "No need; she's fast asleep, and I'll be back in a moment.  Act normal, Vash, please."

'So that's Vanessa,' Salem thought as she came into view.  At the distance, she looked lovely.  He took in the light, long hair and the flattering yet simple dress upon her tall, attractive body.  But her movement with the cane took him for surprise.  She was hurrying, and weak, but not limping.  There was such determination and poise to her, but the scarf covering her ears and hair over her bent face hid her features.  Once Vash helped her to them, her face lifted, showing a tight scowl and scarring.  Salem winced.  This was a face of pain.  'No wonder…' he thought, explanation pouring forth, although it was mere assumption.

The curled expression corrected itself quickly once Vanessa remembered her role.  "Hello, Meryl," she cheerily offered, smiling, allowing her eyes to lose focus.

"Huh, uh…Hi, Vanessa, hi!  You're looking much better," Meryl sputtered, head tingling as the blood rushed back.  She blushed.  "But you really shouldn't be out and about yet!"

Vanessa nodded.  "Don't worry about me, Meryl.  I just wanted to be sure you got the invitation."

Salem prodded Meryl's side softly.

"Oh, Vanessa?  This is Salem, my boyfriend; I was just introducing him to Vash…"

Smiling in his general direction, Vanessa moved her arm from Vash's back and shook Salem's hand.  "Nice to meet you, Salem."  She seemed a bit relieved by that introduction somehow, but yet again, very concerned.

The interaction being strange enough, Salem was left somewhat startled.  When he took her hand, he noted the deep scarring there as well.

"Like I said, I can't be long," Vanessa continued, growing deeply uncomfortable by the stranger in her midst.  "But if you and Millie could come over tonight, I'd really appreciate it.  We'd like to thank you for all you've done, so around nine, if you could come by for a while?"

Meryl nodded.  "Sure.  Nine.  Okay."

"Nice to meet you, Salem."  Vanessa took position against the cane.  "Vash, go ahead and visit, it's fine," she added when he looked intent upon following.  "But I'd swear my ears were burning!  You won't talk about me, will you?" she asked warmly. 

Vash nodded, watching her leave before sitting.

They all became quiet again.  Meryl was taken aback by her cheerfulness and the anger she thought it concealed.  Salem was reeling from the scars.  Vash wondered if having Vanessa back to her old self was as comforting as he'd remembered.

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	19. CHAPTER SEVEN: Dangerous Truths part 3

**CHAPTER SEVEN:  Dangerous Truths**

_PART THREE…Distracted…_

Hearing the door chime, Vanessa's paintbrush paused in midair. They were quite early. Climbing to her feet, she moved from the canvas laid on the floor. She was wearing a dirty smock, but didn't have time to change. She hobbled to the bathroom sink to scrub the oil paint from her brushes, hastily scraping the pigment from her hands.

Staring off futilely into the corner, she busied her hands, listening to the greeting in the next room. From there, she heard Vash welcome them. Millie and Meryl were making baby talk to Tessla.

The brushes were full of paint. This was taking too long.

Vanessa abandoned the dirty brushes, wiped her hands, and entered the main room. "Hello," she said softly with a blank stare.

The girls looked up from the baby momentarily to answer.

Millie found herself staring at Vanessa a bit too long, and blushed. "Tessla's a really beautiful baby," she commented, filling the silence while turning once more to the rosy-cheeked infant.

Not fully able to see her daughter's face, Vanessa simply smiled, moving along the wall to a seat. Beside her lay the canvas. Meryl's foot seemed awfully close to its edge. Reaching down, Vanessa grabbed the canvas frame and tipped it up against the wall. A tiny dot of dark, concentrated paint rubbed off onto her forefinger in the action.

Continuing their cutesy coos, the girls attempted to catch the infant's attention, beaming once she smiled. Only after several long minutes did they notice that Vanessa wanted to begin their consultation of sorts.

"Sorry we're early, but we thought nine was kind of late. Considering little Tessla's bedtime and all," Meryl explained, more to Vash than to Vanessa.

Vash waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. Our plan won't really take too long to explain anyhow."

Vanessa cleared her throat. "So, shall we begin, then?"

Finding seats, the girls held Tessla.

"Well, as you know, the facts will be that Tessla is now seven years of age. She was with us when we boarded, and if anyone contests this, the data files all have been altered to prove that she was. Her birthdate is February second of seven years ago, if anyone asks. Generally, you must not speak of her until she appears closer to that age, since you would only be piling lies atop lies in order to avoid suspicion. Only speak of her if asked, and even then be brief. If asked why she isn't appearing in the children's class sessions and interaction areas, claim that we Vash and I are overly protective, and that Tessla is a frail child to boot. Much like the excuses I've used to keep people from seeing my pregnancy recently, we can explain away her lack of public appearance by fervent religion and sickness. So long as she is not thought to be deathly ill they cannot intervene. If asked what exactly ails Tessla, claim it as anemia and low blood pressure. I've already entered these into medical records as the diagnosis. Understood, thus far?"

Meryl nodded. Holding in her opinion, Meryl felt it best to remain silent. After all, this was the mother speaking, and as such she had every right to regulate these things, but still...

"I just don't see why we have to lie about little Tessla's health. I mean, I understand how she's going to seem different and all, but we can just say she's really shy, right?" Millie asked sweetly.

"Shy won't explain why no one ever sees her." Vanessa felt a tingling itch at her cheek scars, and moved to scratch them as she spoke. "She's a weak child, too weak to leave our rooms until she's older, at which time she'll have regained rigor. In actuality, I'm sure there'll be instances in which we take her amongst the other children, but only when away from teachers' watchful eyes, and only when we refer to her as 'a friend's daughter' and not our own."

Meryl stared at the little series of bright blue smears Vanessa's finger left upon her cheek. They accentuated the scar tissue and forced Meryl to lose track of the conversation.

"Miss Vanessa?" Millie asked uncomfortably, glancing at the somber expression on Vash's face. "You know, my mother always told us that little kids only turn into brats when they're not around other children enough. It would surely be awful for her if that happened, don't you agree?"

Vanessa frowned. "Children like that don't always turn into brats. When it's for survival they don't. I didn't." She squinted, wondering why Meryl's posture was so casual suddenly.

"Oh. Okay," Millie softly agreed, finding herself also distracted by the blue paint. "Um, and Miss Vanessa? You've got some stuff on your face."

Frowning still, Vanessa stood motionless. She brought a hand to her face and squinted, finally noticing the pigment. "So I do," she assumed softly.

Vash finally looked up to her, and focused on the paint. He stifled a chuckle.

 Millie also held in a giggle, much less successfully.

Vanessa's face turned red beneath the blue smears, annoyed and embarrassed. "It's paint. Just paint. But back to Tessla, the reason why you both are-"

Allowing a bit of mirth through, Vash interrupted. "It's really funny looking, Vanessa."

She grew very quiet, staring off into a corner, waiting for them to listen once more. This was too serious a topic to joke through.

The others allowed their laughter to die down quickly, feeling a little guilty for reacting this way, considering the topic of discussion.

"Sorry," Meryl muttered.

Vanessa's blank gaze remained fixed on the distance, her face still beet red. Her voice was low, words spoken slowly. "I want Tessla to become more adept at interaction than I am. For that reason, you two are welcome to visit with her as often as possible. Your visits will be invaluable to her, I'm sure."

Meryl and Millie exchanged glances.

After a long silence, Vash reached over and patted Millie and Meryl's hands. "You can be her aunts, huh? That's so great!"

Millie nodded happily.

Meryl seemed a bit disturbed by the comments as a whole, but smiled nonetheless.

"Well, I'd like to return to my canvas now," Vanessa continued softly. "But you're both welcome to stay."

The girls sat in an awkward pause as Vanessa made her way back to the bathroom for the brushes, and returned to sit on the floor before the propped canvas. Vanessa's brush strokes were slow and heavy, building up an image still too undefined to identify.

Once Vash began to make small talk with them, they grew more comfortable. Ignoring Vanessa's presence, they cooed to Tessla and asked Vash about his classes into the night.  
  


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	20. CHAPTER EIGHT: Define 'Evil'

**CHAPTER EIGHT: Define 'Evil'**

_PART ONE…Quite Like Him…_

Sticking out his lower lip, Vash scratched his forehead. Tessla mimicked him from her perch on his shoulder, lifting her pudgy little fingers with a smile. She craned out to see her father's hand move to his chin instead, and she followed the action.

Vanessa laughed, soft and gentle. All she could see at this distance was the gesture, which was undoubtedly cute. It was Vash's expression she couldn't know.

Tessla grinned, but turned to staring at the painting like her father. "Not daddy," she commented simply.

Vash grunted to the affirmative. He sighed, snapping back into reality. "Yep, not daddy. That's your uncle, baby bear."

The huge canvas was tilted against the wall. On either side, equally large canvases lay stacked upon one another. Each was a vibrant oil painting of some memory or imagined scene. They were all beautiful – uncannily lovely if a little disturbing sometimes. This work was no exception.

"You did it better than the daddy ones," Tessla continued, in Vanessa's direction. Calling her 'mommy' wasn't a habit. She lifted her eyebrows in confusion, causing a tiny wrinkle in her delicate forehead. "How come?"

Shifting her pose, Vanessa began to clean up the workspace. "Painting daddy got boring," she explained. Wiping her glass palate clean, she moved with far more confidence and far less pain than before. Only her scars and poor eyesight remained as proof of her bouts with weakness. "Tessla, if you would sit still for it, you know I'd paint you. Ever since you hit three weeks, you've been a jumping bean."

Vash remained rather quiet, and bent to let Tessla to the floor.

With her tiny fingers, she gripped his pant leg to steady herself. Her legs hadn't become fully accustomed to standing yet. She glanced up at her father's face, studying it silently, and then walked clumsily towards the canvas. Looking back and forth between Vash's face and the painting, she came to a telling conclusion. "Daddy, how come I look most like Uncle Knives than you and her?"

Nearly choking on the air, Vash forced a chuckle. "He and I, we're twins, so it kind of makes sense. Don't worry about that stuff, okay little bear?"

In truth, she was so right. Her hair was far paler than Vanessa's, and slightly paler than Knives'. With that stark white-blonde hair, and slate blue eyes, she was so very like her uncle. Even her sharp, serious nature struck him as though she were a little female Knives. It was eerie, and he squirmed at the fact.

Vanessa, now standing close by, squinted to examine his expression while he thought. She frowned, knowing well enough what he must be thinking. "I never did, Vash. Never."

Vash smiled goofily, hiding his worry. "What do you mean?"

"There's no way," she continued dryly. "No doubt about it. Questioning legitimacy is not only unnecessary, it's rather insulting."

Waving his hands defensively, Vash felt his face blush. "I wasn't! Man, oh man…"

Knives sneezed, startling Nuisance. The long, thin cat stared up at him a moment before settling back into the folds of his blanket. Rubbing his nose against his wrist, Knives leaned forward, careful not to move his legs from beneath the snuggling cat.

"I think I'm coming down with something," he mumbled. "Or perhaps it's just the dust settling. Sneeze after sneeze, all of the sudden." He closed his eyes, wondering about the absent plants. Prayerfully he thought of them, wishing safety for the little Tessla and hoping that Vanessa would regain her sight and leave that worthless brother. Or at least that damned Vash would be a protector or provider somehow, though it was so doubtful. Vash was a good-for-nothing. Knives should've been the father.

Frowning, he shook his head. "Got to stop with the 'what if's, right Nuisance?" Getting no verbal reply, he reached down to stroke the soft ears and neck. He looked up at the huge plant bulb beside the catwalk he'd set up his bed upon, staring intently upon the curled plant angel at the core. He could tell just by the total mass that she was fully pregnant now. Any day now…

"Even they believe it," he whispered reverently to no one. "I deserve a second chance. They're giving me this for a reason." Placing his hands over his heart, he gazed in awe, displaying his reverence as best as he thought to before leaning back under his blankets.

Later that night, hours before first dawn, Knives was awakened by an intense pain. His eyes flew open, and soon he was on his knees before the plant angel, watching the birth. Sweat rolled from his forehead as he watched, silent and gasping for breath. The excitement was intense, but the pain she was transferring in part to him was just as powerful. When the child finally dropped to the bulb surface, the plant angel's body relaxed.

Knives had to catch his breath enough to stand, and that was trying enough. When he finally stumbled down the catwalk, he made his way as quickly as possible to the bulb base. He hesitated at the bay, finally slicing a locker open to encase his body in the protective suit. Being within the bulb was too much for him at that point.

Within the stuffy atmosphere, he rushed to the bawling baby, lifting it into his gloved hands and stepping gingerly to exit with it.

Once outside, he hugged it to his chest as he eased his own helmet and gloves off. Finally, eyes widened with a shocking anticipation, he examined the infant. It seemed healthy, all fingers and toes accounted for. Bald head, chubby body, warm, sticky stuff coating it. Coating her. It was a she. She was beautiful, of course.

Knives painfully stifled a loud laugh of joy, forcing tiny jolts of giggling to course through his body. He wiped the little face with his glove and took her to his blankets. After she was rightly swathed and cleaned with lukewarm water, her crying faded. Eventually, she slept. All this time, Knives was entranced. How could he not be, with all these thoughts of the future dancing surreal in his mind?

"Name…a name," he demanded of himself. "Vanessa's name was perfect for her. Yours should be respectively correct. Vanessa…butterfly…

nymph…Yes, nymph. You're my lovely nymph." He paused, recalling the mythology. "Callisto," he decided. "Hello, Callisto!"

His smile was huge and genuine. His affection for this tiny creature was that of a father and brother and apostle all the same. But his assumptions about her were entirely incorrect, and these moments of delightful ignorance were the last he would have for some time.

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	21. CHAPTER EIGHT: Define 'Evil' part 2

**CHAPTER EIGHT:  Define 'Evil'**

_PART TWO…Yet You Don't SOUND Like Her…_

"That is beyond unladylike, Callisto," he softly scolded, waiting for her hem to fall back to her knees.

But she continued flapping the edge of her skirt around, looking to Knives dismissively.  "It's _beyond_ hot today, and this thing is scratchy."

Knives bit his lip.  After all these months of scavenging, he'd not yet found a comfortable dress for the girl.  If he didn't find something truly soft and durable soon, she'd surely dress as a man.  "As hard as it was to find, I wish you'd stop complaining.  After all, it's attractive and feminine, and it suits you."

She snorted.  "That's why it DOESN'T suit me.  A dress is an obsolete thing, and acting 'ladylike' is ridiculous.  Female modesty was a thing invented purely to protect females from predatory men.  Considering the current situation, I've little need to worry."  She hesitated a bit at that, remembering all the endless scolding she'd heard for dressing in Knives' clothing, walking about nude, and discussing sexuality aloud.  The books were right – adults squirm at the hint of sexuality, whether inferred or not.  His anxiety gave her two options:  to assume he was a prude, or to worry that he was holding himself together, pretending to be a prude to cover something deeper and far less innocent.

Little Callisto sighed, tossing her long, light blonde hair over her ruffled shoulder.  It was an absurd amount for an eleven-month-old to worry about.

Knives was rather oblivious to her concerns.  The past year was a blur, an endless trial to feed them both, clothe them both, entertain them both…She preferred books to his company, and in the most recent weeks he'd spent most of his free time simply observing her as she read and slept.

Vanessa.  Just like Vanessa.

To the detail, she was a young, perfect Vanessa.  The hair texture and color, the eye depth and vibrant aqua, the thin limbs and long face…The only visual details she lacked were Vanessa's scars and deformities.

'Thank you,' he thought as he led the toma-drawn cart into the abandoned town.  He always thought this, a mantra of thanksgiving to the providers.  He thanked them endlessly since her birth.  The prayers became increasingly fervent, considering her appearance.  Knives was given a new, flawless Vanessa, just as he wanted.

Certainly, Callisto was bold and erratic, but he assumed she would grow out of this immaturity.  He was sure she would blossom into a talented, reserved young woman.  Callisto would be the companion he wished for; the companion Vanessa was both inept and unwilling to be.

Suddenly, Knives' head went up in surprise.  He stared, wide-eyed, into the distance, towards the sudden mind shock.

Callisto reacted as well, jumping to Knives' side at the front of the cart.  She twined her little arms around Knives' muscular forearm, squeezing as she stared off to the north.  "Daddy, who's that?" she whispered quickly, not realizing the folly of her word choice until it was too late.  Waiting, she wondered if he'd heard her.

Knives stared north, hiding his displeasure.  Once in a while she 'slipped,' calling him THAT, though he'd told her not to.  'I'm your guardian, not your father,' he'd adamantly corrected, internally disgusted at the thought of her believing him to be her father, considering the life he wished to live with her in her mature years.  "Callisto, please…" he murmured slowly.

"I know, I know," she interrupted.  "Didn't mean to.  Who's hurting, Knives, sir?" she repeated, adding a sarcastic formal title for her own amusement.

Knives listened closely, pinpointing the origin of this pain.  "Talia," he answered soberly.  "It's minor, though."  He lifted the reins and snapped the tomas into motion once more, now in the direction of the message.  "We'll check on her first, but hopefully we can still finish the scheduled adjustments."

"Right," Callisto agreed distractedly.  She knelt, reaching up into Knives' short hair with her fingertips.  Itching at his scalp like that felt odd, and she liked the feel of cropped hair, wishing for it herself.

And he didn't complain, because it was nice somehow.

"So, um," she began, breaking the silence again.  "If you're not my dad, then who is?  'Cause, you know, people have parents."

Sighing, Knives rolled his eyes.  "That human literature is rotting your mind.  You don't have a father.  You're a PLANT, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, like you keep telling me.  Whatever that means.  I mean, as far as I can tell, I'm just a sped-up human.  So what."

"So everything!  You and I are superior, because we are plants.  Don't insult your brethren by even hinting that we are like them," he scoffed.

Callisto stopped rubbing his head and slunk down on the wooden bench beside him.  "Well, it's true.  But, then, I have a mom, right?  Which one of them was it?"

"It's not important which one, because they're all your mother.  You have a plethora of mothers and one guardian, and we are plants."

"So we are.  And you're a bastard, too, then?"

Knives nearly choked on his tongue.  This was just like her, to come up with the most horrific things to say.  "I beg your pardon!"

"Bastards.  Those who have no father, or were conceived and/or born out of wedlock.  I am a bastard child.  You, too, huh?" she asked, as though the indications of the word meant nothing.

"That's a human term," he corrected, face flushing red.  "No, I don't have a father either, and I'm proud of that fact as I am proud of my race, and as you should be as well.  Now stop this nonsense, please."  Knives thought, itched his head, and paused.  "And could you do that again?  It's pleasant."

"What, this?" she asked, returning to rubbing his scalp.  She sat back down and folded her arms.  "Hell, no."

Knives huffed but made no further insistence.

After a moment of thought, Callisto presented her argument, gathered from these weeks of researching humanity through literature, and observing Knives as a sentient plant compared to the plant angels.  This moment seemed as good as any.  "We speak, move, feel, look like humans.  We're nothing like the plants in those bulbs, or if we are we are far too displaced to belong with them.  Not like this.  We're 'liberated', if you want to call it that, but this is the loneliest brand of freedom I can figure…We have no place with humans because we're not born like them and we don't die like them, correct?  Yet we, in this state, cannot live within the bulb, and cannot get the responses from the angels that we want.  That is, I can't.  But then, you can't either, can you…?"

"Yes I can; I asked them for you, and they delivered," Knives responded curtly, a bit shocked at the formal, mature speech she had delivered, in that soft, child voice.

"No, I mean you can't otherwise get them to come down and visit with us, unless they're hurt.  Their interest in us is like one watching a butterfly.  We're no one's equals."

His mouth became dry.  It was true, but he didn't want to admit it.

"You say I should love being a butterfly.  But I'd rather belong.  If I can't be a human, I wish I could at least be an angel."  She sighed, slumping on the bench.  "Not like you'd understand."

"I understand your feelings, Callisto, but we're important.  We tend to them; without us their bulb environments would run themselves out of balance, like they always do, and no one would be there to type on the keyboards.   All the plant angels would die if we weren't out here, traveling every day to help them.  We're their equals for that."

"No, we're not," she corrected.  "That just makes us servants.  We're not angels.  We can only be angels in our imaginations, and there are never enough dreams, vivid enough dreams, where I can be one."

Knives frowned.  "This life is harsh; full of sacrifices.  I'm sorry you're not old enough to realize the nobility and necessity of us, out here, willing to let our sweat and tears fall for their sakes.  One day you'll see, Callisto.  Until then, please be patient with them.  Be patient with me.  Appreciate what you have and know that you're special."

Callisto snorted a reply, but she felt he was condescending in those words.  She chose to fidget for the duration of the trip instead of engaging him in further conversation.

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	22. CHAPTER EIGHT: Define 'Evil' part 3

**CHAPTER EIGHT:  Define 'Evil'**

_PART THREE…Iconography in the Void…_

"Daddy, I don't want to go.  Simple as that," Tessla repeated, dropping heavily onto the couch.  She clicked the projection wall on, staring at the evening dramas.

Vash stomped into the main room, tugging violently at a tie round his neck.  "What do you mean, baby bear?  You've done so well these past couple months – now's not the time to get shy," he added, concerned that that first year of near isolation would ruin her socially.  Whenever he took her to classes, she seemed well adjusted to those of her age appearance.  "Tonight's too important to stay in."

Tessla flipped to another projection signal, drawing her legs beneath her.

"Go change into that dress your mom made you, you can't wear that," he maintained, gesturing to her short, short skirt and ruffled top.  Pausing, his hands fell from the tie, defeated.  "It's a dress up event," he whined.

"Please, daddy, don't make me go," she begged, turning wide eyes to her gullible father.

Vash sighed, going back into the bathroom to figure out the tie in the mirror.  "Really, it's not so bad.  You're making it sound like we're off to face some terrible enemy or something.  Tonight's real important, to your mom and to us all."

Turning back to the wall, Tessla wrinkled her nose.  "But it's so embarrassing."  Knowing she wouldn't win out, she chose to do this, but only for daddy.  "F**k mom," she whispered.

"Huh?" Vash called.

"Nothing," she replied in a sing-song voice, pulling off her outfit to wear that frumpy, long, turquoise number her mom had churned out for the event.  "Just that she's only authoritarian when it suits her and she doesn't deserve you, that's what," she whispered in a reply meant for no one.  Standing to look in the full-length mirror, she frowned, fists balled at her sides.  No, this would upset daddy.  Her hands fell limp, face slowly softening to a false smile.  She raised her eyebrows to the necessary height and straightened her posture.

"There's my Tessla!" Vash announced triumphantly, walking over with the strangled tie adjusted almost correctly.  "Looking good!"

She rolled her eyes playfully.  "Whatever."  She ran a brush through her chunky hair, cropped into a cut popular on Earth at the time.  "Promise you won't embarrass me?"

"Can't promise that."  Smiling, he waited for her to finish and escorted her from their rooms.

The sickening feeling in her stomach became stronger, but was luckily not as intense as it would have been had she perfect vision.  Like she was, she couldn't see their faces when they saw the images, couldn't see the rejection and stares she assumed were occuring.  And if someone recognized her, she would just deny it and ship security would help her.  Yes, it would be fine, so long as she didn't focus on anyone's face.

"Mrs. Saverem?"

Vanessa turned to see the blurry persona of a random crewmember.  She shook the man's hand and smiled.

He hid a wince at the scarring across her cheek.  "Nice to meet you, I've heard so much about the works.  So nice to see real physical art out here in nowhere, you know?  And it's fantastic, really."

"Thank you," she murmured, waiting for him to turn back to his date.  She let go of that breath she'd been holding in.  Years of hiding and running left her with plenty of fear, and old habits of mistrust of humanity die hard.

She moved towards a panel and stared, calming herself with a familiar image.

"Vanessa!"

Turning, she saw Vash.  In excitement, he hugged her quickly and regained an awkward air of sophistication.  "This is really ritzy.  Rem used to tell me about art museums back on Earth, and this is just what I envisioned," he whispered, turning around to view the large exhibition area.  "To think it's really a gym space…And your paintings fill every wall."

Vanessa checked the scarf about her ears and grinned nervously.  "Yeah.  Prolific.  Vash, how many people are here?" she whispered.

"Well, they're still coming in, but now, I'd say only about three hundred-"

"Are you serious?" she hissed, teeth bared in fright.  "Maybe this was a mistake."

Vash put his arm around her shoulder.  "Don't say that.  I'm not surprised, that the first time an officer saw the paintings, word of mouth led to this.  After all, months of constant working yielded some really moving results."

Vanessa's muscles softened some.  At least with Vash there, there'd be someone to carry the conversation who wasn't scared shitless.  "Thanks.  But where's Tessla?"

"Oh she's over there, with her friends.  She acts like it's embarrassing to be seen on the walls here, but I'm sure she's proud.  We all are.  Oh, and Meryl and Salem and Millie said they'll be here a little late, but they're excited, too."

Breathing deep, she took his hand.  "Show me to the snack tables?"

Obeying, he glanced over his shoulder at the not-so-little-anymore Tessla, acting quite grown up with her classmates.  She seemed shrunk in a shadow, avoiding recognition.  People were glancing over, though, to the gorgeous little face on the panels, to the girl, and back.  They knew.  He just hoped she really was hiding pride; that this stubborn disgust was a front or a phase.

The gym swelled with warm bodies, wide eyes taking in the unexpected.  The beauty and vibrancy of the paintings was amazing, colors nearly blinding.  There were faces, some repeated, some huge, and landscapes everyone knew she hadn't seen.  Plenty came to seek her personally, praising her.  She took it gracefully, hiding fear, and let Vash appear the talkative one.  It wasn't the commendation he was enjoying, it was the massive amount of human interaction he loved.  That was his field, not hers.  Vanessa only wanted to sell a panel or two.

Paint and canvas supplies were expensive, and Vash's salary wasn't sufficient.  With this growing girl in the family now, there was a real need for extra income.  A few hundred credits would be nice, but she didn't expect much for her works.

But she underestimated the wealth of the highest crewmembers on the ships.  Word had, indeed, spread like wildfire, and suddenly she found that several commanding officers were deadly serious in art collection.

"Mrs. Saverem, may I speak with your agent?"

Vanessa blushed.  "I don't have one.  I mean, I manage myself."

The plump old man cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes.  "Well then, I'd like to talk with you.  I'm looking for the prices of several works."

"They're flexible," Vash mentioned.  "Show us which ones and name your price."

The group walked to an indicated panel and watched the man squirm.  "Name my price?  Really…Well, don't take this as an insult, Mrs. Saverem, but is ten a fair amount for this piece?"

Vash looked a bit shocked.  "That's kind of low!"

The man began to sweat a bit.  "I understand.  Twenty then.  There are two others I'm interested in, perhaps 50,000 credits would suffice for the lot?"

Biting his tongue, Vash's face flushed.  He felt her squeeze his arm.

"For which others?" she asked.

Now reddening, the man pointed to his choices.  "Again, I apologize if I seem insulting, but I simply must have them!"

Maintaining her composure, Vanessa pursed her lips.  "50,000 for the three…But that far one is a favorite of mine, the one of my young daughter in the forest.  I surely can't let it go for that."

"60,000.  But I really can't go higher," the man offered, nearly in a whine.

Vanessa paused, then sighed.  "Fine, then.  We'll discuss payments in a bit, alright?"

The man nodded, smiling.  He shook her hand with a sweaty palm.  "Thank you.  And it's so nice to meet you, Mrs. Saverem."

After he'd walked away, Vanessa squealed quietly.  "Did I hear that right?"

Vash's jaw hung open.  He stared at her without reply.

"What?  He could afford it."

"I guess so," he replied, in awe, rubbing the back of his hair.  "You know, that's enough to send Tessla to specialized college on Earth and-"

"Shh!" she interrupted.  "Here comes another!"

This one was a younger woman, unattractive, with an air of importance.  She introduced herself and met the two of them, and small-talked a bit to work her way into a deal.  "The short haired blonde man with the machinery and plant life – I'd like that one for 31,000 credits."

Vanessa was taken by her attitude but knew this was too good to let pass.  "35 and no less."

The woman haggled, but 35,000 was the final price, and the woman paid up front.

She wasn't the last to buy, nor the most generous in her offers.

"Specialized college and a craft," Vanessa whispered later.  "We can set up a fund for Tessla immediately."

"Don't think about spoiling her in the future.  College, sure, but don't you think you can utilize some yourself?"

She shrugged.  "What do I need…"

He lightly touched the cloth over her ear and cheek.  "You need to not be afraid anymore.  On Earth, money buys medical attention.  Medicine has advanced enough to…well…"

Vanessa contemplated the possibilities.  No one could offer a cure for her damaged vision, but plastic surgery could transform her elongated ears into normal ones, her facial scarring into normal skin.  She touched his hand at her cheek.  Perhaps he was right – this could be her course from condemnation.  But was it fair?

Tessla burst in from behind.  "You got that stuff for a reason," she sighed, referring to her mother's scarring.  "It's part of you now."

Vash shot her a hurt glance, but Vanessa's head lowered a bit in defeat.  "I know."

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	23. CHAPTER EIGHT: Define 'Evil' part 4

CHAPTER EIGHT: Define 'Evil'

PART FOUR…New Brand of Innocent… 

Salem finished his first glass of wine and sighed, smiling.  "Good stuff.  Great stuff.  Damn, it's been a long time..."

Millie giggled, then stared off a bit.

"What?" he asked her, startled by her sudden somber expression.

"Oh, nothing.  You just reminded me of someone, just now.  He used to say things like that."  She smiled, then shook her head and smiled, with closed eyes, up at him.  "Forget it, it's nothing."

Salem shrugged, rather used to Millie's weird comments by then.  

"Mr. Vash and Miss Vanessa are very generous, aren't they," Millie added, referring to the bottles of liquor from the luxury shop that Vash had supplied.  The first thing he'd done after the gallery's close that night was ask Vanessa's permission to spend a bit of the credits on booze.  Now, with Vash's old friends and a few new ones, they gathered to drink it in a rented social room.

Salem nodded.  He'd already made the congratulations and small talk.  Where was the wine...?

As the answer to his prayer, a bottle made for his glass, filling it to the brim thankfully.  

Salem cared not from whom the liquor had been served.  He turned his gaze back to the glass and sipped it.  "I'm not sure I'm going to like this Earth place, if alcohol's a luxury only.  So expensive.  Not like Gunsmoke at all."

"Actually, the luxury-priced items onboard hardly reflect the reality of pricing on Earth," a young voice argued as soft hands brought a half-empty wine bottle to hug at her chest.  Tessla sighed.  "It's simply a trick, to raise ethical standards and keep minds clear from distraction during studies.  On Earth, I'd wager that the same proportion of drunkards and drug addicts to non-users on Earth isn't far from that on Gunsmoke."

Salem's jaw dropped.  "Huh?"

"Gosh, Tessla, you're as smart as your parents, aren't you?" Millie asked, smiling.  She kind of caught the drift of what'd been said.

"Thanks.  Anyway, there's actually a lot of stuff they claim and promote and frown upon that's not legit."  She gestured at her mother-made gown.  "Like this.  The projection programs have lots of girls dressed like this, while in reality the fashions are far more casual and revealing.  Most of this stuff's bull, if you ask me.  I mean, like nobody cusses down there."

Nodding agreement, Salem gathered his wits.  "You're, um…you're how old?"

"Seven, going on eight!" Millie helpfully lied, patting little Tessla's shoulder softly as she often did while visiting.

As Millie spoke, Tessla stared up at Salem with steely blue eyes and a flawless face of what could've been marble.  "Like I said, most of what people tell you isn't true," she answered enigmatically.  Moving to fill Millie's glass, Tessla continued.  "It's a really clever thing to do to us, psychologically.  For instance, painting supplies.  They're luxury class, too, but in fact, on Earth, they're not expensive.  But since the chances of someone making a living from painting are really slim, and the goal of this whole ark is to convert us all into good little worker bees, successes for the capitalist economies of the world we're headed toward, paint is a luxury item.  Computers are free, but a tin of mineral spirits or bottle of wine costs lots of man hours."

Salem began to move past her age and focus on her words.  "That's right.  Huh.  Which program did you see this on?"

She shook her head.  "No, I came up with this on my own; they'd never project programs about this stuff."

"I see why."

"Kind of makes you feel like a marionette, huh?" Tessla added, grinning.

He chuckled, drinking his wine with a pleasant smile.  "And when they pull the strings, we dance."

Tessla nodded emphatically, hugging the wine bottle proudly.  She felt a twinge at her left, and glanced over to see her mother's angry glare several yards away.

'Act your age,' Vanessa mouthed.  Her face softened to show her concern.  'He can't know.'

Tessla sighed and pursed her lips.

"No, it's okay," Meryl answered with a casual wave of the hand.  She sauntered towards the exit with Salem, a few steps behind.  "You are really buzzed."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Okay.  But I'm really sorry, really.  I just think I've had enough, and my place isn't so far, and I hope you don't get lonely tonight without me, and you stay and have a good time, Meryl."

"Thanks.  'Night."

Salem waved and yawned, stepping out of sight.

Across the room, Vanessa was ushering a reluctant Tessla towards their rooms.  "You've got to go to classes early tomorrow, and you've said enough tonight as it is."  Frazzled and bored, Vanessa was clearly ready to leave the long get together.  

These were Vash's friends, and he ought to be left to mingle with them.  But for Vanessa, it was tiring and rather frightening.  

She spotted Vash, but he was busy with a conversation, so Vanessa asked Vash's nearby teaching assistant to let him know they'd gone home.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Saverem, Tessla.  I'll let him know."

There was too much booze, and Vash began to offer bottles to people as they left.  Smiling, they took them, and Vash's heart glowed with the warmth of generosity.  He was beaming from everything.  Life was good.

At a far couch, two of his colleagues, a shy professor of microbiology and a gorgeous professor of genetic enhancement in food products, were chatting.  Blushes shone on their cheeks, a twinkle in their eyes betraying what may become romance.

Vash giggled.  Best to leave those two alone.  He scanned the room for anyone of the few left, to talk with.

He spotted Meryl, fiddling with an empty wineglass, sitting in an armchair.

"That's a pretty dress," he complimented as he seated himself in the armchair beside hers.

"It's secondhand.  I mean, thanks."

"You're welcome.  What're you thinking about?" he asked.  "Seems deep – important."

"Kind of," she admitted, cupping the bowl of the glass in her palms.  "Thinking about plant kids.  Wondering how, 150 years ago, you were a year-old super genius with the appearance of a grown kid.  About how, in your life, people like me don't amount to anything.  I'm the bat of an eye.  When I'm gone, you'll forget me.  People came and went in your life before, plenty of times, I'm sure.  And there's no way you can think of them all, with perfect memory, every day.  Your reality and my reality are…I don't know."

Vash smiled weakly.  "That's not quite true, you know.  I honestly do remember all of them.  I could tell you the full description and life story of anyone I knew, as well as I ever knew.  I love them all in ways.  As much as it hurts, sometimes, I hope I never ever forget a thing about any of them."

"That's really depressing."

"No, it's not.  Everyone has their own starry sky.  Each point of light is a person, each an individual, in our minds.  It's not something to be sad about.  The way I see it, the only difference between my sky and everyone else's  is that mine has way more stars."

Meryl sniffled.  "That's a lovely way of putting it, Vash.  Still, I'm far from jealous.  It's taken me a while, but I think I'm finally beginning to understand how tragic your past really is.  Immortality.  Knives.  I just hope things are safe for you, in the future.  No more violence and wandering.  I guess you have to wander, though.  I don't know.  Ignore me; I'm babbling."

"It's okay.  I try not to think about the bad stuff, that's all.  Think happy thoughts, Meryl!"

She smacked his cheek for that comment, but not hard enough for him to say, 'ouch.'  "Dammit, Vash, can't I have one serious conversation with you?  We always hide our deep thoughts, and just now, I don't want to think happy thoughts and stupid crap like that.  Listen to me – I'm worried about you.  I want you to be happy.  And I want to be important to you and it's starting to make me feel guilty that I want that, since my place in your life as a dying creature will only depress you."

"You're…dying?" Vash asked, suddenly concerned.

"No.  Yes.  I mean, not anytime soon I don't think, but I will.  I'm going to get all old and nasty.  I don't think you should see that."

"Meryl, you growing old isn't what would depress me.  That I can't age with you, and all the people I care for – the mortal ones – that's what depresses me."  Vash sighed.  "It's confusing, being like a brother to someone one moment, and like a great grandchild to them in the next.  I can only get so close to people, but at least I can be with them when I get to.  I love people so much."

"You do, don't you.  You're the ancient watcher who wishes he was a real boy.  Poor damn thing."

Vash took one of her hands from her glass and gripped it in both of his.  "We're both breathing and we're right here, right now.  Isn't that the neatest thing?" he commented genuinely.

Meryl smiled, laughing softly.  She lifted her head and stared into his eyes for a while.  She lost track of the world around her, perhaps because of the alcohol and time, perhaps because of the electricity of the moment.  Feeling the warmth of his hands, her usual stern nature softened and she didn't care what happened next.


	24. CHAPTER NINE: Physical Presence

CHAPTER NINE:  Physical Presence

PART ONE…It's Only Human Nature … 

"Excuse me for a sec."  Breaking the warm pause, Vash dropped Meryl's hand back into her lap and went to offer some of the left over wine bottles to a triad of guests.  As they finished their move for the door, they cast tired goodbyes and thanks and left a quieter room.  Vash looked about – now only the two professors cooing on the couch remained.

Meryl, still seated, suddenly blushed self-consciously.  She wondered what she looked like and stood abruptly.  As she brushed past Vash to visit the adjoining restroom, she mumbled, "Back in a moment."

Nodding, Vash surveyed the cluttered room and decided to tidy up the place, lest they be overcharged for cleaning.  He did so only on his side of the room, careful not to disturb his friends.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw them sneak a kiss.  Deborah went for a second, which lasted much longer.  How wonderful, Vash thought.  They'll make a great couple.

After a few more kisses and stifled giggling, the professors left the couch.  Still glowing with happiness, they hurried to say goodbye to Vash and tell him to congratulate his wife again.  Vash stifled his own giggles as they left, arm in arm, and sighed when they'd gone.  He returned to moving the furniture back to the walls, but the trash would take at least another hour to clean up.

When Meryl stepped from the restroom, she saw Vash cleaning and joined his task.  She didn't speak as they worked.  Only after they'd collapsed onto a long couch, the room spotless, did she try to continue their conversation.

"So, where were we?" she asked.  "Life experiences…starry skies…memory…?"

"Um."  Vash scratched his head and smiled.  "'Member that time you and Millie decided to help the old couple guard their land, and you wouldn't let me help?"

Meryl nodded, smiling.  "The trouble over the trees.  Those Nebraska people sure were messed up.  Millie had such spirit.  You should've been there; sorry I wouldn't let you help."

Vash grinned goofily.  "How did you get out of that one again?"

"Like I said, I don't know how, but one Derringer shot…It was weird, but I guess my aim was just really accurate that day."

Sniggering, Vash nodded.

"What's so funny?" Meryl demanded.

Vash shook his head, breaking into a hearty, high-pitched laugh.

Crossing her arms, Meryl huffed.  "You freak."

A hurt expression softened Vash's outburst.  "You think I'm a freak?" he whined.

Meryl slapped him on the back, playfully, dismissing the thought.  She found herself laughing as well, and Vash joined her.

"So you ran over his foot!?" Vash asked incredulously, between giggles.

Meryl shrugged.  "I was in a jeep, his foot was right there to run over.  What other choice did I have?  You just don't insult a girl's haircut.  It's a rule."

Vash wiped away a tear.  "Such a sweet thing you were."

"Still am!" she corrected, batting her eyes in a false display of femininity.  She laughed lightly, falling back against the couch cushions.

Attempting a more authoritative, somber expression, Vash lifted a finger in the air.  "But you know, I don't think the situation called for such violence.  You know, he probably still has trouble walking, or has deformed toes, or something…Anyhow, the point is-"

"Love and Peace!  Right?"  Meryl interrupted, breaking out into a new peal of laughter.  "Nah, his boots were sturdy; the toes healed up in two weeks.  Lighten up!" she added, beaming, dropping one hand on Vash's knee casually.  She settled back again, calming her laughter.  "Always with the 'Love and Peace.'"  The hand remained where she'd placed it.

Vash fought a blush and tried not to look at her hand on his knee.  He hoped it would go away.  Not really though.  But…No, he just wasn't sure what he wanted.  So, he waited.

Meryl examined his expression from the corner of her eye and frowned.  "Sorry," she mumbled.  Lifting her hand, she set it between them on the couch.

"It's okay," he said dismissively.

"Is it?" she asked softly, calmly.  She waited, and heard no answer.  "There's the chance, you know; right here, right now."

"Is there…" he said weakly.  Vash cleared his throat.  His neck felt itchy all of the sudden.

Meryl folded her hands in her lap.  "Listen, I'm not drunk or anything.  I'm in my right mind.  I know it makes me sound pathetic and desperate, but really, I've been thinking about this, and I don't feel bad about it.  I'm still young, and you'll always be; you're not going to have a monogamous life; it's impossible, and I'm being true to my heart by…well…just think about it.  I've always cared about you, and I'd kick myself forever if I didn't put it out there like this, at least once.  Considering our 'situations' we can just write it off as history and move on completely…after…"  Her voice became softer and quieter until it trailed off into a whisper as she spoke.  "It's…just…before I'm wrinkly.  Before I lose you forever…"

Vash swallowed hard and wrinkled his forehead.  He looked over into Meryl's face and met her eyes.  For a long moment he studied her face.  What she'd said made sense to him, whether or not he'd wanted it to.

She fought the quiver in her lip by biting it.  "Say something," she demanded quietly.

The battle raged in Vash's mind.  It was a war between several conflicting sides – his morality, telling him that he should think of no other woman than the mother of his child; his body, urging him to jump at the chance to be intimate with an attractive, kind-hearted woman; his compassion, wishing to make everyone happy if possible; and his guilt, reminding him that he had turned her away so many times before and that it was only for selfish reasons that he should turn her away again.  He hated to see someone hurt.  Meryl's eyes betrayed her pain.  Vash wanted more than everything to make that pain go away, but at what expense?

"Forget it.  I don't want pity.  Looks like that's what you'd consider it.  Pity," she mumbled, keeping her gaze fixed on him as a tear or two rolled from their blinking eyes.  "It all seems logical in my head, but I guess aloud it's silly."  Her posture straightened as she rubbed her wet eyes with fists.  She forced herself to regain her composure and control the tide of emotion.  "Dammit, Vash.  I always try to figure out how to make life happy for people I care about, but I'm always wrong.  I'm confusing selfishness for concern, aren't I?  I'm rationalizing it.  Yep.  Yeah, silly me.  Right.  Dear God, let's not talk about this ever again.  Goodnight, Vash."

As she stood to leave, Vash grabbed her arm in a gesture that led her to sit again.  "Don't think like that, okay?  You're really hard on yourself, Meryl.  You're not completely wrong – otherwise it wouldn't make logical sense.  Right?  Listen, I don't know either.  Really, I'm flattered and I'm not sure what to say to that.  So…um…can I think about this and then tell you something?  I want to come to a conclusion.  I won't have you walking away, beating yourself up just because I can't say anything in response.  Okay?  You're a fantastic person, and I love you so much, but since I love a lot of people I guess that doesn't say much.  Um, I need to be mature and think about what kind of love I feel about you.  I want to do the right thing.  It's complicated, you know?"

Meryl nodded solemnly.  "I know."

"Promise you won't save yourself for me or anything extreme like that, okay?  You do what you believe is right.  Nothing else.  Follow your gut.  Nobody's worth you worrying or getting all depressed and stuff."

"Okay, I'll do my best.  Right.  But you and decisions – your track record on deciding is really shoddy.  It took you 150 years to decide what to do with Knives."

Vash chuckled lightly.  "Yeah.  I'll try to be more time-efficient with you.  The moment it hits me, the right thing, and I'll know I promise, I'll tell you.  Just, um…Until then, let's continue being friends.  You're such a good friend to me.  And to Tessla.  We have to be adults, and I don't want to lose the 'real' Meryl.  You get me?"

Meryl nodded, sniffling.  She stood again and walked more calmly to the door.  Waving behind her, she made the long walk home, hoping she could hide her emotional condition from the ever-observant Millie.  Something told her, however, that Millie would understand.

Vash, on the other hand, waited a few moments and began to weep into his hands until it became quite late.  He didn't want to tip Vanessa off.  Tessla needed stability, he reminded himself, as he dried his tears.


	25. CHAPTER NINE: Physical Presence part 2

CHAPTER NINE:  Physical Presence

PART TWO…No, I'm Not Jealous … 

On a sturdy, new easel that'd been delivered just an hour ago, Vanessa stood painting.  She paused, tucking her paintbrush behind her ear, to take a sip of juice from a ration pouch, and leaned against the couch behind her.  The image manifested itself far earlier than these things usually did.  The deep, red tones dominated the background of the piece, indicating what would likely be a viewer-confusing combination of flower blooms and living visceral tissues.  Soft, warm skin tones indicated the large face at the center right of the image, which would obviously be the focus.  Meryl's profile was already becoming clear, even to Vanessa, at this distance, with her poor sight.

She was going to paint Millie today, but she felt inclined to begin the Meryl portrait first.

Placing her hand beside her, on the couch top, to steady herself, her finger brushed against a blanket fabric and she jumped.  Without turning, she knew this was the bedding Vash had thrown together before.  He said he didn't want to wake her when he returned late, from the after-gallery party.  Vash slept on the couch last night.

Vanessa's eyes narrowed as she tested the contrast of the image, slowly, until her eyes were only barely open, then wider to take the colors in once more.  It needed more variation of texture in the background, and more non-local color in the cheek-nose area.  And that lower right corner was just simply not working.  

She bit on her straw, gnawing on it as she studied her work.  

Those things needed fixing before she would go into the face with any more detail.  There would be a lot of importance in her features, since they were very soft and telling.  Meryl was a beautiful woman, by mathematic proportions and geometric ideals of the human face.  She was very feminine in features, especially since her eyes seemed to be dilated a little more than eyes usually would.  Things like that make women more attractive to the opposite sex, for various biological reasons.  Soft, pretty women like her looked like they needed protecting, and her short stature sealed the deal.  Except for her outward personality, Meryl was surely a draw to men's minds.

Vanessa went back into the red tones, adding highlights and pushing out the forms with shading.  

She didn't know what relationship Vash had had with Meryl before Vanessa stumbled into their lives, and had always assumed that things like that weren't relevant anymore.  What Vash did or did not do and feel towards Meryl back then was none of her business, she believed.  In the same right, she had never mentioned her past relationships with human men to Vash, and imagined she would avoid the subject if asked.  Such things would only clutter the mind and cast doubts.  

Vanessa's left 'ring' finger was naked, as were all her fingers – free of any ring to bind her to anyone.  She wanted Vash to understand that human ideas of romantic love didn't apply to immortals.  They couldn't expect to remain tied to one another for hundreds of years, she surmised, and therefore, she saw no point in describing her relationship with Vash in terms of eternal love or a permanent union.

Laying paint thick across the surface of the canvas, she reflected on reality.  She would have this same appearance, scarred and thin but still the physical embodiment of the human's ideal female form.  There would always be human women Vash would find attractive – more attractive.  Human beauty was proof that plants, though immortal, could and would feel great affection towards their mortal counterparts.  The eye and the heart often overpower the logic of the brain.

Vanessa's memories reminded her that she, too, was weak to such a phenomenon.  But that was so long ago, and since then her sight and trust had deteriorated such that she doubted she recalled how to desire a human.  Perhaps it was still possible.  It didn't matter much.

Vash was still capable of this love for humans, obviously.

She calmed her rather animated brushstrokes to make finishing details.  She'd been painting for hours now, and was so thoroughly preoccupied (as a painter often is) that she'd lost track of time and hunger.  

That eye needed just a bit more lightening.

Millie's class sessions were complete by then, and she activated the door chime before letting herself in.  "Good afternoon, Miss Vanessa?" she greeted cheerily while finding a place to set her knapsack.  "Would you like me to get the rations now?"

Vanessa studied her canvas and wiped her hands.  "This one's finished.  Didn't take much."  She shook her head.  "Sorry, Hi.  Um, the rations.  It's that late already…Actually, you know, I don't think I've gotten them before.  I should be more independent."

"Oh my, Miss Vanessa, that really looks just like Meryl…" Millie commented, just noticing the image, in awe.

Choosing to wind her hair in spirals over her ears in the old way instead of using the scarf, Vanessa turned to Millie before leaving.  "Can you see them?" she asked, since a mirror wouldn't help.

"Wha?"

"Uh…My ears.  Can you see them?  Did I cover them well enough?"

Millie looked stupefied for a moment.  She glanced at Vanessa for a brief moment before returning to stare at Meryl's portrait.  "They're covered..."

"Thank you, Millie.  I'll be right back."

Vanessa's heart was pounding in her chest as the door shuttered closed behind her.  She paused to catch her breath before taking the ration trays to the kitchen area.  It wasn't the effort that caused her pulse to race – it was the danger and excitement of being alone with the humans.  She was scared, but relieved.  Despite long periods of hiding, she was still capable of walking amongst the humans if she so desired.

"So it wasn't so much pretending to think about the questions," Tessla explained to Millie in the main room, having just returned from classes.  "It was harder to decide which ones to get wrong, since I'm not sure how much direct influence it's going to have on my class focus from now on.  But I'm moving towards sociology."

"That's people studies, right?"

"Yeah, Millie.  Pretty much."  She didn't turn towards her mother while accepting the ration tray.  Crunching into a protein bar, she became visibly stiff in posture the moment Vanessa's weight hit the couch beside her.  Tessla gulped hard and frowned.  "But I'm sure if I could just show my intelligence a bit more, they'd place me faster and I'd be better off on Earth."  
Vanessa opened her mouth to respond to that challenge, but stopped herself.  She took a big spoonful of gelatin instead.

"When daddy comes home I want to show him this poem I wrote."

"Can I read it?" Vanessa asked through the gelatin.

"I'd rather wait for daddy; it's for him.  Anyhow, I hope he doesn't get held up again – he promised me a walk through the far side of the ship tonight."

"I talked to him during lunch," Millie piped in, looking at her food.  "He says he might be really late, helping some students who've been struggling.  Actually, he mentioned that the students are really far behind, and he might have to stay late with them a lot from now on."  Finished, she smiled at them with her eyes closed.

Vanessa thought this comment peculiar, but was also preoccupied with her daughter's cold comments.  She began to think about things again, and was very until Vash came home to take Tessla for that walk.  He wasn't particularly late.

When Millie stood to leave, Vanessa was sitting on the couch, still.  "Millie, may I ask you something?"

Scared somehow, Millie turned.  "Y…Yes?"

"Meryl won't be coming around much anymore…?"

Millie hesitated.  She didn't remember having mentioned that.  "That's right.  She's focusing more on her studies, and she may not be able to spend time over here."

Vanessa remained stoic.

"Bye!" Millie called as she left, breathing relief as she strode through the hall.


	26. CHAPTER NINE: Physical Presence part 3

CHAPTER NINE:  Physical Presence

PART THREE…Escape … 

"Callisto?"  Knives paused, attempting to remain calm in composure and tone as he breathed in sharply to call her again.  He shifted uncomfortably in the vast, empty belly of the plant bay.  "Callisto…"

Nuisance mewed behind him.  The long-haired, wild-looking cat trodded forward and rubbed roughly against his jeans.  Getting no response as the man called the name again, the cat stretched its long, thin body up his leg, holding his thigh in a bear hug for attention.  Again she let a little chirp, and poked the soft part of his leg with a claw.

Jolted, Knives shook his leg and the cat darted into a shadow.  He squatted to the ground and the cat came to him, loyally, to climb onto his shoulders.

As he batted the tail fur from his face, he reminded himself that his cries to Callisto were pathetic.  He shouldn't have to work so hard just for a reply.  When he'd come to bring produce last week and been unanswered, he'd become worried and searched the complex.  Callisto had come casually out from a doorway after twenty minutes, rolling her eyes at him for his overreaction.  "This place is too big for me to come running out the moment you step in, you know," she'd scolded with her child's voice.

Standing slowly, he let Nuisance jump to the floor with a thud and follow him out to the toma cart.  This time he wanted to act with a cool nonchalance, instead of a crazed, parental flailing.  Behavior was surely the key to get Callisto back into his daily life.  That and time.  "Patience," he muttered, lifting a great basket of potatoes onto his head.  He steadied it with one hand and held a sack of carrots and a sack of plantains in the other hand, walking slowly to avoid tripping over the cat, goofily darting between his legs as he moved.

Knives bit his tongue after too much time had passed and all of the goods had been moved into the food closet.  Glancing about to be sure she wasn't playing some cruel joke on him, he gave up once more.  

Final beams of sunlight slithered from the ceiling windows and, with a faint whir, long rows of artificial lights clicked on.

Startled, Knives ran to the control room.  It was clean and the secondary computers were running and warm.  As it seemed, Callisto had booted up the old systems and was sapping more power from the plants for her personal comfort.  This angered Knives some, but he repeated the 'patience' mantra and sauntered towards the food closet.  So long as the extra systems were running, he would utilize them.  He filled a sack with various vegetables and made his way down a winding hall to a kitchen area.

For the twenty-first time, Knives shooed Nuisance off of the huge, steel countertop.  She jumped right back up the moment Knives' hands returned to their work, to bat at a stray white-capped mushroom.  "Dammit, Nuisance!  You get your meat can when we eat!"

"Cats don't understand English," a familiar young voice commented dryly.  The smell of a hot meal led her to him and she grabbed a bowl he'd just washed.  "Done yet?"

As usual, Knives forgot his lecture the moment he saw her.

Nuisance licked her mouth over and over, and returned to licking the empty can again.    This was fruitless, so she leapt onto the table, between Knives and Callisto, to clean herself.

The meal was complete, but Knives was still annoyed by the cat's interference.  He thought their conversation was becoming personal, though the past month's attempts at bonding didn't lead much of anywhere.

As if in answer to his thoughts, the cat moved from licking her paws to licking her butt.

"That's inappropriate, damn cat," he murmured, dropping his hands into his lap.

"Actually, it's perfectly appropriate."  Callisto lifted her spoon and moved it about in the air as she spoke.  "Far from wasteful, and perfectly natural.  Quite sanitary.  Cats' waste systems and behaviors are more sanitary than ours.  We're so primitive; in that and in everything, my research is showing.  Did you know that the plants have bypassed defecation as we know it, but they still do dispel solid waste?  The trick, however, is that they collect it in-"

"Please don't talk about that," Knives asked softly.

She rumpled back into her seat and tapped the spoon on the table.  "I'm finding out the most interesting things.  At first, I was just observing the power levels and stuff, but now, with the lights and the computers…and the more time I spend here, the more I think they're helping me out."

Knives submitted to talk of the plant angels; perhaps he could keep her attention a bit longer.  "Is Arad still feeling the dizziness?"

Callisto nodded solemnly.  "But I'm developing experiments to find a way to help her.  By increasing particular chemicals in her cherubs, I've been able to calm her without putting stress on her core, but there's a better way.  Pretty soon, I'll be able to begin editing the humans' old plant medical theory texts.  Neat, huh?"

Emphatically, he nodded.  "Fantastic.  Your research will be invaluable, I'm sure.  You're sure to become far more specialized in plant angel medicine than I am – I hope that when your research is complete, you'll serve the entire angel population, and not just this bay.  It's not fair to the others."

She rolled her eyes.  "I don't encrypt my files.  No passwords, no nothing – you can browse through them on the network whenever you have a problem to solve; I don't need to be there."

"They like to see you.  I bore them," Knives added honestly.

"I'm sure they understand," she countered.  "They're not the ones who're worried about me being here.  You're the one not thinking rationally."

Knives crossed his arms.  "Ah, but I am.  Without someone to talk to and be with, I'll lose my sanity.  It's rational that I want to remain sane, since it's for the plants' best interests.  Nuisance makes horrible company; I miss traveling with an intelligent creature."

"That's awful selfish!  You can visit me weekly like you do, and everything will be fine.  You don't need me for anything; you just think you do.  You'll be fine without me."  Callisto smacked her forehead, remembering the stories Knives used to tell her, when she was mastering language.  "Before Vash beat you!  Yes, remember that!  You had those Gung-ho people, but you didn't hang out with them or anything.  Before Vash beat you, you liked being all alone and stuff.  Don't get all mushy just because I'm a plant and a girl.  Seriously, you need to stop being so superficial and so selfish.  Gunsmoke doesn't revolve around you."  With that, she stood and pulled her gloves back on.  "I need to go back to the bay.  I found some old specimens I want to test.  Thanks for dinner; see you next week."

Nuisance looked up from cleaning her belly and stared widely at Knives as Callisto's heavy footsteps faded.

Knives rubbed his eyes roughly with his fingers in frustration.  "But I was lonely back then – I missed my brother…and I learned how to be lonely and to want someone with me, and if I…I just want someone to receive my companionship," he whispered softly, "and treat me with that same kind of…just…affection would be…dammit…"

If Callisto had heard his words, she would have ignored the sentiment, though, for she knew his wants and reasoning, and saw within them far too many flaws.


	27. CHAPTER TEN: Moral Obligations

CHAPTER TEN:  Moral Obligation

PART ONE…Time Well Spent… 

"Hi, Professor Vash! Is it okay if we have lunch with you?"

Vash snapped out of his daydream.  He looked up from his meal to see five concerned and smiling faces.  "Sure, have a seat," he replied, smiling.  Suddenly, he noticed Meryl in the ration line and gasped.

"What's the matter?" Melanie asked, opening her food packets.  She glanced over her shoulder.  "See a ghost?"

Vash looked to his food again.  "Thought I saw someone, that's all."

"We were wondering if you needed help with something," Bryan asked him, narrowing his pale green eyes in concern.

The sudden rush of compassion from these students warmed his heart and Vash smiled wide, waving his hands in dismissal.  "Don't you worry about me; I'll be fine."

"Well, we just wanted to let you know that we hate seeing you down," Sara piped in, "And if there was anything you wanted to talk about or anything, we're here for you."

"Thanks, but it's just a decision I have to make," Vash responded, red in the face with embarrassment.  "No big deal, really."

The students exchanged glances and became quiet, beginning their lunch.  They didn't want to lose the only kindly professor they had for classes, especially considering that for most of his students, their comprehension and speed of learning the material was far greater than in other classes.  Professor Vash's skills had been on the decline for the most recent week or so, when he sometimes obviously hadn't prepared the class lessons at all.

Vash noted that Meryl was approaching, and ducked his head low to his tray.  

"Hi, Vash."

Now he had to look up.  "Meryl, meet some of my students – Bryan, Melissa, Melanie, Sara, and Derek."

"Nice to meet you all."  Another ration tray met the tabletop.  "I'm Meryl Strife; Vash and I are old friends."

The students made their greetings and engaged in usual conversation.  Amongst these energetic people, Vash and Meryl sat silent, studying each other with glances.  Bryan asked about the verb conjugation on that night's study work and Vash turned full attention to the young man.  After the answer was through, and Bryan's tray was empty, he left to write it down.  The four that remained began to disperse as well, and after twenty long minutes of Meryl sitting silent and not touching a single crumb the two were alone in the cafeteria.

"Have I been blown off completely?" she assumed in a low rumble.  "When you said you'd figure out the 'right thing' and all, I assumed you'd let me know to my face instead of ignoring me.  If you think-"

"Meryl, please don't yell at me," Vash murmured in reply.  "I promised you an answer and I'll give you one.  Please wait a little bit longer."

"You swear you haven't already decided?" she asked, still angry, but with a bit of hope.

"I swear it.  But it's really important that I take the time to-"

"No," she insisted softly, prepping her juice pack.  "I can't live like this.  It's messing me up.  Come to my place in three days, after your classes.  If you aren't there, I'll take it as a no.  Got it?"

Vash nodded.  "I'll do my best."

Meryl sighed, staring into his eyes.  "This is weird.  I…I'm sorry…"

"Like I told you before, it's okay.  This is nobody's fault; it's just there.  This feeling inside…I'm not sure what it is yet, but there's something powerful tugging at me day and night.  I'll tell you as true as I can.  Three days, then."

She nodded, frowning.  "I trust you," she mouthed.

"Thanks," he replied, wondering if he should reach over and touch her hand, but feeling it wrong.  "Tessla said she hasn't seen you since the gallery.  I hope you're not avoiding her because of me."

Meryl shook her head.  "I didn't think I should go over there.  I'd feel bad to be around them…"

"Don't be," Vash said, concerned.  "Right now, there's absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.  Just put it all out of your mind for her.  Tessla misses you."

Lowering her head, Meryl bit her lip.

"Millie mentioned something about taking her to the zoological exhibit day after tomorrow, since me and Vanessa are still banned.  Think you can go with them?  Like you guys used to?" Vash asked hopefully.

"Sure."

Vash smiled.  "She'll be so glad to hear that.  I've got to get back to my lessons; see you later."

Meryl held back a sigh.  "See you."

"Hey Mr. Saverem!"

"Hi, Mr. S."

Tessla also turned from the little circle of friends to greet her father.  "Hi, daddy.  I thought it'd be okay if I invited Bettie and Shauna over tonight.  Can they sleep over?"

"Sure.  Yeah, girls, you're welcome over anytime."

"Hello, Mr. Vash, how were classes?" Millie asked, walking in from the kitchen area.

"Good."  He walked to the kitchen, motioning for Millie to follow.  "Where's Vanessa?" he whispered, knowing that if she were around, Tessla wouldn't have invited her friends.  Vanessa was embarrassing, or so Tessla claimed.  And where would Vanessa possibly go, considering her scars and ears and sight and fears and…well, considering everything?

Millie shrugged.  "She wasn't here when I got here.  I let myself in – was that okay?"

"Is there a note or something?" Vash whispered, glancing about for a clue.

"Well, it's probably like she said the other day, when she was painting Meryl, I forget what day…She said, 'I should be more independent,' and she went out for the rations herself.  Good for her, I think."

Vash frowned.

"C'mon, Mr. Vash, you should be happy that she's not afraid to go out on her own.  What could possibly go wrong?"

"Plenty," he muffled, wondering if he should go looking for her.

"Daddy, can you tell us that story about how we all came from spaceships to begin with?" Tessla asked from the next room.  "About the SEEDS project?  Bettie and Shauna said they've never heard of it, and I told them you're not lying..."

Perhaps Millie was right.  Vanessa ought to be free to make her own mistakes and adventures.  Without obvious hesitation, Vash turned and joined the girls, to recall this story as safely as he could (i.e. leaving the Knives and first-person parts out).  But every moment that Vanessa didn't return was an eternity in Vash's worrying mind.


	28. CHAPTER TEN: Moral Obligation part 2

CHAPTER TEN:  Moral Obligation

PART TWO…Identity … 

The scars Knives gave her over a year ago were a bright pink, and though they were thin, and had been more carefully stitched than most of her other scars, they still carved little canyons in the surface of her skin with an almost plastic shine.  There was no way to hide them, since no matter how high her collar rose, it could never cover the scarring that rose up her face and eyelids.  The parallel tracks that snaked around her visible skin always hinted at the rows that continued.  Like embossed ribbons, they wound around her cheek and chin, neck and shoulder, across her shoulder blade, and tapered to an end somewhere around her lower back.

Oftentimes she daydreamed that Knives had never carved her so.  Instead, she envisaged an existence where Knives' reaction had been quicker, and harmless feathering had arisen from his arm from the start, instead of angel arm blades, and she had stayed with Knives in the desert, understanding him, leading their end to be far less bloody and painful and awkward and dramatic than it actually was.  Why, perhaps if she were never injured during that mind probe of sorts she could've applied what she'd learned from his mind towards helping Knives cope with his feelings and past and become a happy, socially functional person.  After all, the more she replayed the true events and fake possibilities in her mind, the more she believed that behind every one of his silences, threats, and speeches was a tiny, passionate voice asking to be accepted.  'Maybe,' she thought, 'I didn't give him enough of a chance.'  Doubts and daydreams filled her time as she stared, without focusing, into a mirror that seemed indefinite and dirty according to her vision.

Today she wore a charcoal gray dress, cut low at her neck, hanging on her shoulder edges.  It was long to the floor and simple, with long sleeves ending at her palm.  She'd made this one as well, tailoring it to the specifics she'd had for clothing for over 50 years.  The scarring that coated her body kept her from dressing otherwise.  For much the same reasons that Vash wore tight garments under his looser clothes, she made her dresses tight above the waist and flowing below.  Scarring like theirs called for either completely restrictive garments or as little fabric contact as possible.  She herself couldn't figure out how Vash could stand wearing pants, considering how much that hurt scarred knees and a scarred groin.  But then, she reminded herself, the latter was a problem he did not have.

The other main motivation for this style of dress was the location of her scars.  For the longest time, she had had scarring over her legs, ankles, arms, torso, back, wrists, and everything in between.  Her fingers, toes, and everything above this low-cut neckline was scar-free before Knives' accidental weaponry ruined that ground as well.  Of course, at that point, there was no longer a reason to cover this scarring, since, as she kept reminding herself, it could not be hidden.  And so, essentially, she dressed to show off what little untainted skin she had.  Shoes or other foot coverings were outside of her daily dress because what showed of her feet was unscarred.  Call it pride, or vanity, but it helped her sanity to have this skin visible, to remind her that she was not completely in ruin.  

Moving her face closer to the mirror, she remembered that all of the facial injuries she'd accumulated before Knives' accident had healed quite completely.  Luckily for her, all scrapes and bruises and such that she'd acquired on her face from beatings and on her neck from strangling disappeared with time.  She had been given a lovely face from birth, and it had brought her as much good fortune as it had brought woes.

Perhaps that was what bound Vash to her – her beauty.  Her face, and her body, and her species, and the trauma they'd endured on Gunsmoke.  Their personalities were so dissimilar, their interests so separate.  This went back to her original theory, of course, that in the end beauty is the bait into relationships.  And in all relationships, hope and trust make way for guilt and bitterness.  Only if the guilt outweighs the anger will a pair remain together.  Sighing, she wondered if she was simply a hag who'd forgotten the joy of loving someone.

And that lead to the most obvious question:  what is love?

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Vanessa," a deep, soft voice apologized as the man walked briskly in from the next room.

Looking up from the tabletop mirror, she watched his blurry form sit across the narrow table from her.  "That's fine.  Sorry to waste your time.  I realize it's a pipedream to-"

"Actually," Dr. Ezekial interrupted, "it seems your chances are far better than when you were first examined."  The tall, dark-skinned man pulled her old exam notes onto the screen within the tabletop with a hidden keypad.  "I cannot promise full vision, but improving your sight is possible.  With corrective laser surgery-"

Vanessa smiled smugly.  "No surgery, please.  For obvious reasons, I'm far from fond of any sort of weapon or device changing my flesh."

"There's another option," he offered.  He cleared his throat and rubbed his temples, annoyed by these Gunsmoke people and their phobias of science and medicine.  "Lenses."

Again, Vanessa smiled knowingly.  "Contact lenses were rendered obsolete centuries ago.  No one bothers manufacturing them anymore."

"Right, Miss Saverem.  But considering your [ahem] preferences, I'd have doubted you'd put such devices onto your eyes at all.  No, I mean the simple, original way to correct vision.  I spoke with my colleague, a physical therapist aboard the other ship, who in his free time sculpts.  He says he can create some eyeglasses for you.  Of course, his fees will be separate from mine, and I'll be giving him the information on what exactly you need.  With a 20,000 credit payment, up front, I can instruct him to begin."

"May I meet this man before he begins?  If you'd just give me his room number and name, I can contact him myself."  Waiting patiently for the doctor to write up the info on a tiny pad, Vanessa remained chipper.  She took the page and paid the man, who was all too happy to accept hundreds of credits for a simple vision consultation.

Joseph looked her over, well aware that she couldn't know his eye movements.  "You're becoming awfully famous for an artist, up here, you know."

"I got lucky once is all," she dismissively replied.  "Once the novelty wears off I can go back to just being the faceless immigrant."

"I can't imagine a face like yours not standing out," he murmured enigmatically.  Precision hand-held glass cutting tools were drawn from cases and large, calloused hands arranged them on the coffee table as proof of his ability to create something like eyeglasses.  He sniffed.  "I can make the glass myself, and the frames can be made from scraps, so really the only costs are for labor.  Gabe's already sent me the specs on your prescription and distortions, but it'll take me a while to draft the plans."

"I had a few ideas," she offered, trying not to sound astute.  "Maybe I could send you some drafts over the network, to save you time?"

Joseph stared at her, waiting for her to realize the stupidity of her words.  "If you want to."

"I'll still pay in full.  Ten thousand up front, with fifteen more on the way after your work is done.  I would think, after the draft is complete, ten days should be sufficient to complete the glasses, do you agree?"

He had to keep himself from licking his lips.  Considering his gambling debts back on Earth, he really needed that money.  "Deal."

Vanessa nodded.  "Great.  I was wondering if you'd mind telling me about your work, since I can't see it to justice now?"

Joseph hesitated, and then began a long description of his portfolio and theses.  However, throughout the entire thing, with her staring blank with a little smile, he couldn't help but feel angry.  Her stare was condescending in a way.  To her, an instantly regarded painter, his feeble attempts at recognition must seem amusing.  It made his blood boil.


	29. CHAPTER TEN: Moral Obligation part 3

CHAPTER TEN:  Moral Obligation

PART THREE…Consensus … 

As an impossibly complex map of the Earth danced upon the projection wall, father and daughter sat memorizing.  Across the rooms, mother spread cloth upon the floor to cut.  It was a nice, quiet family moment.  But as usually happens during such moments, reality crushed tranquility.

Bold, little Tessla sighed and slouched further into the couch, muttering under her breath.

"No; I'm fine," Vash answered softly, losing concentration.

Rolling her eyes, she spoke up further.  "Why do you let her depress you?"

Vash gritted his teeth.  "Tessla."

"You don't owe her anything.  She gave you a kid, but you stayed with her in exchange, for long enough.  I mean, really.  Just like the humans.  Man dons ball and chain in exchange for species propagation."

He raised his hand a bit, but stopped, reminding himself that violence is wrong.  She did deserve a little smack on the head, though.  "That's a pretty cynical view, baby bear."

"Sorry, daddy.  I just don't want you going by human rules.  At least, not the ones that shouldn't apply to us," she continued whispering, now turning to face him with her cold blue eyes.  "I understand, though.  You wanted to have me, and you're the best daddy in the world."  She smiled.  "So, are you staying with her to have more?"

Vash's jaw dropped.  "You think that's the only reason?"  He glanced about him a bit, to see that Vanessa's attention was still on the fabric.  "We're a family, Tessla.  I love you and your mom very much.  You believe that, don't you?" he asked plaintively.

Tessla nodded.  "I know.  But maybe you're mistaking loyalty with love.   You don't really act like you care much about each other.  Ignoring or tolerating is more like it.  When you hang out with me, I can tell you're relaxed and happy.  But with her...."

Turning back to the map, Vash stiffened his expression.  "There are so many separations in Africa."

"You can't separate what was never joined in the first place."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Vash whispered, growing impatient.  "Look at the map."

Tessla wrapped her arms around her father's neck.  "I only want you to be happy.  Once we get off this ship, we can go off and be happy, you know.  Just me and my daddy and the people that don't depress us."

Vash hugged her back, pulling her closer to his chest protectively.  "We'll be happy, Tessla.  Don't worry about me.  I'll never leave you or your mom alone unless you make me," he whispered, smiling, just before he began to tickle her.

Giggling madly, the little plant wriggled to get away, screaming, "No!  Daddy!  Got to pee!"  Panting, grinning, she hopped from the couch, stuck out her tongue playfully at him, and dashed to the bathroom.

After a mere chuckle or two in passing, Vash's demeanor grew decidedly calm.  He felt her eyes upon him, and tried to appear as cool as possible when turning to face her.  "How's the dress going?" he asked, forcing a smile.

The spotlight facing the little sewing platform before her highlighted her face harshly.  Her oddly pointed ears struck out from her head, reminding him of her piqued hearing.  However, her expression was calm.  There was even a slight smile upon her lips.  "She doesn't like me, much, does she?" she commented rhetorically, leaning back against her chair to braid her hair.  "I've gone wrong.  It's no one's fault but mine."  Tying off the rope of hair, she returned to the fabric, beginning to run a long seam through the path of needling.

Vash frowned.  "Don't be so hard on yourself.  She's at that age, you know?"

"What age?  She never has agreed with me being here.  I have no right as a mother to depress anyone; especially considering she's never even referred to me as such before."

"I know things have been rough for you – that's the reason why you're so…um…somber.  I'm sure once we're able to settle in on Earth you'll find your peace, and I'll be there to help you."  It was only natural for him to attempt to comfort her.  Nevertheless, her sad words came with acceptance, and his heart felt cold.

Vanessa shook her head slightly, the little smirk curling the corner of her mouth.  "Vash, Vash, Vash.  On Earth, there's no need for a hero.  I've been working, recently, to set the three of us up as independent there.  We'll be monetarily stable for many years, and no longer legally tied.  We aren't creatures bound to tides and moons.  If a creator existed or exists, whether man or God, he surely meant for us to not attempt to bind ourselves to objects or lives, since such things will only lead to frustration and disappointment.  Don't take anyone too seriously.  Even your own daughter may forget you one day."

Light reflected from a tear rolling down Vash's cheek, just bright enough for her eye to catch.  She relaxed the cloth and cast a soft face to him.  "I don't mean that to depress you further.  I just don't want you to break your own heart.  Remember to keep your 'love's fleeting."  Vanessa rested her elbows against the sewing platform and rested her chin onto her hands as her daughter sauntered back to the couch.

Tessla settled beside Vash softly, attempting not to disturb the conversation and being rather enthralled in the words spoken.

Vash self-consciously wiped his cheeks.

"Anyhow, if you and Tessla would like more company, I have no argument in bearing you more plant children.  Regardless of our future, this world surely needs able minds like our kind.  And if things get hostile for any of our own, they can surely find their way back to their uncle."

Eyes wide with shock of such bluntness in her, Vash nodded without turning.  He ought to say something to them; to her.  But no words could form.  His brain worked to process these thoughts, and a pregnant pause filled their night.


	30. CHAPTER ELEVEN: Consider the Possibilit...

CHAPTER ELEVEN:  Consider the Possibilities

PART ONE…The Creationists … 

The first sun peeked above Gunsmoke's horizon and Knives attempted to shield his eyes with a blanket.  He hoped to sleep in, as his body wanted, but his mind felt otherwise.  There was really no room for rest, considering the vast list of things he ought to do that day.  No, there would be no more rest, he decided, amid the buzzing thoughts.  Yawning angrily, he crawled out of bed and stretched.  Nuisance led him from the hut to the separate 'cat barn,' where Knives dumped a considerable amount of canned meats and fresh water into large, shallow basins for the ferals.  Upon returning to the hut, Nuisance mewed and complained until she received her own heaping portion of meat.  Before the second sun rose, an hour and a half later, Knives had prepared the sky tanks for the week's drench.

Knives had reinvented a rain system throughout his greenhouses.  The upper tanks were all supplied by pulleys and buckets, primitive and hand-run in order to maintain this relationship with the plants.  The only thing he used from them was water, since the seedlings he used were all old specimens from a well preserved crash site.  Of course, the humans in cold sleep had been retrieved by the Earthlings months ago, surely to be revived upon reentry.  They'd had no interest with the other species.

Plants weren't the only specimens he was pleased to have retrieved from SEEDS wreckage.  Many lesser animals were necessary for plant life, and so earthworms, insects, and various other tiny creatures were resurrected and bred to tend to his garden while Knives was out.

Bugs couldn't do everything.  Knives had a purpose here, too.

Moving to a bench beside the greenhouse entrance, Knives stripped off his dingy clothing.  He stepped into his infant ecosystem nude.  He knew no shame, no self-consciousness, for he had no reason to.  This was practical and ideal; nothing deserving of a second thought.

As he moved through the series of one-acre greenhouse complexes, pulling the pipe drains open, he paused here and there to enjoy his foliage.  Once the soft mist fell from the pipes and grew into a soft rain, just walking around served as a shower for him.  Days of sweat, sand, and bodily grime washed away.  It was a sort of renewal, this chore, an awkward attempt at nature in a mainly artificial environment.  Water previously cooled from the underground tanks eased the pink of his ears and face and shoulders.  Outside this complex was a sort of hell.  Inside, it was the beginning of an Eden.  Granted, this was a tiny Eden, but terra-forming a planet takes time.  

The greenery grew thicker and untamed in the larger complexes, where vines wound high and trees attempted forests.  These saplings were hardly a thought now, but their promise was immense.  With thicker flora came higher quality air, and Knives breathed deep of the oxygen-rich, clean air.  He knelt to pluck a mature squash from the ground and held it into the downpour, cleaning off its grime as well.  This was breakfast, raw and fresh.  As Knives wrapped another thick cord from the drains about his arm and tugged, he held the squash between his teeth, chewing up more of the thing as he moved onto the next.

This one held the lesser plants, luxury items as far as plant life went.  These were flowering plants and edible plants that required extra care.  Knives liked to think this was a challenge only, but the mere sight of the reds and pinks and purples of the flowers made him gasp a bit.  This place was a glimpse of life such that Gunsmoke had never before beheld.  

As he tugged upon the cord and began the soft mist upon these precious flowers, he glanced about, wishing someone or thing could witness with him.  But Nuisance, now running about crazily in the misty underbrush, cared not for colors she couldn't see.  The insects and such that buzzed and shuffled about him were busy with their own business.  Knives, surrounded with the life he'd dreamed for over a hundred years, was so completely alone.  His naked shoulders slouched a bit, and his posture loosened as he sauntered forth, wishing another body could share these sensations.

Skin wrinkled with moisture, Knives finished up and walked the long distance back through the greenhouses.  Once back inside his hut, he sat in an old chair and stared at his walls, sighing slightly.  In place of tapestries or art, he had hung clothing along the walls of his home.  There were many places Knives had ventured, retrieving and scavenging for things he may one day need.  These places included Vanessa's cave.  In fact, he had three of her old dresses here, including the torn and stained sundress from the day he had 'taught' her to use her angel weapon.  The rust-colored bloodstains smelled like Vanessa.  It was a good smell; a familiar smell.  Also hanging up and smelling comforting was a pair of small dresses from Callisto's brief childhood.  On the opposite walls, Knives displayed some garments he'd found in wreckage – two blue children's outfits quite similar to he and his brothers' on the SEEDS ships, and several other SEEDS work suits, for adults, that closely resembled outfits he had worn in the past.  These clothes were Knives' only photo album.  Faces matched these things, but he could only close his eyes to see them.

For a long, indulgent moment, Knives crawled back into bed, tugging Vanessa's old quilt under his chin.

He closed his eyes and recalled the features of faces.  He imagined Vash hurt further by the humans, financially, physically, psychologically, whatever.  Vanessa was surely unhappy with him then, planning to leave him, to bring Tessla to Gunsmoke again.  Perhaps she would wait for Tessla to know the evils of the humans, and let her make her own decision later.  Yes, surely Vanessa was planning to find a way back to Gunsmoke.  Knives knew himself to be dangerous, and he wished he could turn back time and either take back or apologize for his frightening actions towards her.  His heart ached when he remembered her face after he slaughtered that little town, and her concealed pain after he'd cut up her body.  He should've been kinder and more honest with her.  If he had, he was sure she would have seen the light, and known his affection for her.  But no, he'd gone and bitten her upon first meeting her, had twisted her arm a short while later; he'd threatened her life so many times without regret.  Now, listening to the howl of sandy winds against his hut and to the soft rumble of the cat nestling into the quilt beside him, he knew regret.  Oh, how he missed her.  He missed them.

He wondered what Callisto was up to.


	31. CHAPTER ELEVEN: Consider the Possibilit...

CHAPTER ELEVEN:  Consider the Possibilities

PART TWO…Ignore It … 

Studying modern texts on a portable screen, Vash sat in the dark.  He hoped to not disturb his slumbering daughter or Vanessa.  However, it was quite late, near morning, so both were deeply unconscious.

Every hour or so, Vash stood and shuffled with bare feet towards his daughter's small room beside the main room.  In the soft light emitted by the edges of the ceiling, he watched her subtle movements with a fixed expression, as though pondering a vital problem.  Leaving her, each time, he gave barely a glance towards his own bed, where a body lay curled up tightly, hair tousled against the pillow.  From the distance at which he kept himself, he could see neither the scarring nor the deformed ears.  This was safest, to stay away from her and her hidden emotions.

By returning to the screen and concentrating solely on these texts, Vash managed to stave away the confusion abuzz within his skull.  Meryl or Vanessa, children or none, isolation or danger, excitement or security…each dilemma spun round at its own axis in his mind, whirring and purring hypocrisies unless drowned out by complicated science abstracts and historical studies.

But as he paused to rub the bridge of his nose, the conflict arose once more.

He had assumed he'd made his choice.  With Vanessa, a plant, Vash found the sort of family he never knew he could have.  He found someone who wouldn't leave him, and who wanted to give him offspring who also would not leave him.  With plants he wouldn't be alone.  Humans were just as (if not more) interesting people, but they were so fragile.  Vash never wanted to see the look on a loved one's face, filled with doubt and horror after noticing that his skin wouldn't wrinkle as theirs did – that while their health wavered and age drained their vitality, his body could change only into a weapon.  

As if in reply, his body reminded him of the scars.  The particularly long one, which snaked up his back, over his shoulder, and down his chest, began to throb.  Certainly, his scars had always hurt.  There had never been a moment in which they did not itch or sting or become sore from movement alone.  Usually he didn't notice, considering the length of time and constancy with which the pain came.  But lately he had been paying too much attention to himself.  He had pitied himself an awful lot lately.  He wished he could stifle the self-sympathy as he had in the past.  Perhaps it was because there were no people to save, nor any global issues that he alone needed to face.  Without the drama of the past, he was left to become a miserable product of grief and doubt.  Why couldn't he just be happy with the future he had been dealt?

Now there were options.  Not only could he have his immortal, healthy children, but he could also spend intimate time with a human, or perhaps, in the future, other humans, that knew his secrets and would agree to keep him from watching them age afterwards.  How perfect was that?  Surely this was the way to go.  

After all, Vanessa had suggested as much so simply.  She was intelligent enough to realize how much testosterone (or some similar such chemical) raged through even a plant male's body.  Immortality didn't make monogamy any more logical an option.

A hot tear tickled his nostril and he wiped it away, sniffling.  He could pretend to be an adult, abandoning desires and adventure, but it was too deeply ingrained in his personality after 150 years.  Everyone was safe and sound, and he could live like a human now.  Maybe it was finally time for Vash to feel pleasure without so much hesitation and guilt.  Maybe, now, everything bad wasn't his fault.  Maybe he could relax.  Maybe he could have the best of both worlds:  human and plant.

A soft smile spread across half his face.  He giggled softly, then stared down at his hands and set the screen down for the night.

He walked over to the bed and crawled under the covers with far more caution than he had exercised while sneaking into hostage situations on Gunsmoke.  In no time he felt himself losing consciousness, curling into a loose and warm fetal position, facing away from the heavy-breathing figure beside him.

"Surprise Vash."

His eyes flew open, and he lay there, stiffly waiting for the punch line.  What had she said?  Did he imagine that?  Sure, she mumbled in her sleep sometimes, but this was weird.

"Leave…me…No.  Forget it.  No.  No.  I'm…free."

"What?" he whispered, wondering if she was sleeping or not.  He turned and leaned over her shoulder to see her clenched face as she went on.

"Free.  Nuh…ungh."  The words became jumbled and slurred, until she began breathing faster and whimpering softly.  Her breath was catching in her throat, making a slightly wet suction sound.

Vash rubbed her shoulder until she breathed in sharply, gasping.  Her eyes flew open and she blinked into the darkness until she realized where she was.  Shuddering still, she rolled onto her back and stared up into his face, attempting to catch her breath.

Taking his hand from her arm, he became uncomfortable.  "You were having a nightmare.  You okay now?"

Vanessa looked as though thinking hard, then nodded.

"What was it about?"

Again, she hesitated, sweat glistening on her nose and forehead.  Still looking up into his face with that blank stare, she swallowed.  "Don't remember."

In a natural reaction, Vash kissed her forehead like one would for a child.  "Well, it's okay now.  Think you can get back to sleep?" he asked.

She nodded, blinking her gaze away and watching him curl away from her once more.

The next afternoon, Vanessa took a break from painting to visit Joseph once more.  He had at first seemed as distant and distrustful of her as she felt towards humans in general, and as she warmed to him, he seemed to open up to her as well.

Initial chitchat became involved conversation as he went over the details of his career.  Vanessa nodded and stared in full attention as he told the tale, stopping him to have him explain in better detail such things as his relationships with his past three girlfriends and the ever-distant relationship he had with his parents and younger sister.  Considering her own, untold tale, his worries and dramas were nothing, and she shouldn't have found him interesting at all.  But somehow, his trivial stories were interesting, and she smiled honestly.  

Throughout their meeting, Joseph's eyes were narrowed, studying her reactions.  He still had a hard time believing she was befriending him for any other reason than to boost her own ego or to betray him somehow in the art world.  Nevertheless, venting was beneficial.

He began to speak of his third and most recent ex-girlfriend, and the memory made him angry.  "She was the worst one.  She cheated on me."

Vanessa looked a little confused, and Joseph expanded that thought.  "I never really found out for sure, but I think she ran off with a good friend of mine.  It wouldn't have pissed me off so much, but she never explained why."

Her stare left him, and a spark of pain hit her expression.  As much as Joseph wanted to ignore it, he felt obligated to ask.  "What's the matter?"

"Nothing.  Sorry."

"What, someone did that to you too, huh?"

"Sort of, but not really.  It's hard to explain," she tried, looking up again.

Joseph leaned back and crossed his arms.  "Vash, right?  What makes you think he-"

"Hey," Vanessa interrupted, her chest feeling tight somehow.  "Nothing makes me think he's…Nothing.  Okay?"

Chuckling a little at her reaction, Joseph held up his arms.  "No offense or anything.  But if you want to talk about things you may wonder about, I might be able to offer an opinion.  I have experience in this stuff."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Vanessa," Joseph continued.  "I don't want to hurt your feelings.  Sorry."

"It's okay, it's not your fault.  I've just…Nevermind."

Joseph's eyebrow lifted.  "What is it?" he asked genuinely.

Hesitating for a moment, Vanessa conceded to herself that this was tit for tat.  He had revealed personal things, and it was only fair if she did, too.  "Well, it's silly, maybe, but I had this dream last night…"


	32. CHAPTER ELEVEN: Consider the Possibilit...

Sorry, I've been busy lately!  But thanks so much for the 

reviews – I hope this story's still kinda interesting!  ~Jillian

##################################################

CHAPTER ELEVEN:  Consider the Possibilities PART THREE…Free to Fall … 

Joseph nodded helpfully through her descriptions and listened to the dream.  Whenever she faltered, apologizing for boring him, he shrugged it off and asked questions to get her to divulge more.  Her dream was strange and intricate, unlike those he had had and those he had heard of.  As she poured over the drama, he noted her composure, and that she shed not a tear even during such parts that he felt she should.  Much of what she said was fantastical, while others reminded him of crappy movies.  And there were a lot of stupid details about colors and sounds and faces.

At one point, Joseph interrupted for clarification.  "Why were you scared of them, if you couldn't see them yet?  Did they have weapons or something?"

"No," she had replied.  "They were going to hurt me, is all."

"How, exactly?"

Vanessa shrugged with her blank stare, perfectly calm.  "I'm not sure, but probably they would beat me.  Or rape me.  Both, maybe," she answered, and then continued her story as if it were natural.

When the tale was through, Vanessa mentioned that it was late and she needed to get back.  Joseph held back his sniggers as he watched her exit, in a genuine-sounding tone calling, "Quite an imagination you have."

The moment the door slid tight, he slapped his knees and guffawed.  She had revealed so much.  Too much, perhaps.

"Salem?  Hi.  How's studying going.  Yes.  Yeah, me, too.  Maybe all night.  Really?  Uh huh.  Well, okay, goodnight."

Meryl clicked the communications line closed, but checked that it was off several times before Millie knew it was safe to speak.

"Just like you planned, huh?  Gosh, Meryl, you're awfully good at this stuff."

Chuckling nervously, Meryl waved her hand dismissively.  "It's just the obvious, is all.  I mean, the man has tests tomorrow.  Of course he'd stay at his own place tonight.  Besides, I'm not lying completely; I will do a little studying tonight."

Millie nodded.  "I felt kind of bad when I had to lie, though.  I guess it wasn't lying so much, but just not telling the whole truth.  I hope I did it right, though.  I really don't want to mess things up for you."

"Thanks, Millie.  I appreciate it."  Meryl moved to the bathroom to do her hair as Millie stood in the doorway.  "Sorry you have to bend your morals to do it."

"Just as long as it's to help my friends be happier, it's not so bad."  In truth, Millie questioned this whole escapade.  After all, wouldn't this make Miss Vanessa sad, even if she didn't really know?  And besides, it'd seemed that she already kind of knew anyways.  Tessla wished her dad would get away from Miss Vanessa.  But Mr. Vash, did he really want this, or was it just Meryl being, well, assertive?  Did the happiness of several really outweigh the unhappiness of one?  Or maybe Miss Vanessa didn't want to be like she was, and maybe she wanted a new start, and maybe this was the perfect way out for her, too.

"What time will you be back?" Meryl asked.

"Um," Millie thought, probing for another lie.  "I'm staying with a friend tonight, so don't worry about me."  In truth, she would likely stay up worrying and studying in a quiet area, so as not to interrupt Meryl and Mr. Vash's meeting.

Meryl smiled.  "Thanks Millie.  You're a lifesaver."

"Hi, been to Joseph's?" Vash asked with a grin as she entered.

Vanessa walked over to the couch and plunked down.  "Yep."  She heard the sounds of Vash washing up in the bathroom behind her, and noted that the room was rather dim.  "Tessla's sleeping over, after all, is she?"

"Yeah, I told her that would be alright.  Is it?"

"I suppose so."  She scratched at her scalp and listened to his sounds.  "Late night study session, hmm?"

He paused and resumed his motions.  "Yeah, I'm not sure how late it'll run.  You'd better not wait up for me.  But I brought dinner, with some special fruits from the luxury shop – they're on the counter."

Vanessa nodded to no one.  "Thank you, Vash."  

"You're welcome.  Um.  May I ask you something, though?  What was that nightmare about?" Vash asked.  It'd bothered him, why she had said such odd things to him last night.

Hesitating, Vanessa stared off at the wall.  "It's not important.  It'll upset you."

"You already gave me hints last night, so you might as well clue me in the rest of the way, right?" he noted, sitting a foot away from her on the couch.

Vanessa sighed and thought.  "Okay.  Well, it's rather complicated.  There were a bunch of unimportant things, but the end of it was the nightmare, really.  

"I was crouched on a narrow walkway, and there was a drop on either side.  I looked down and there were stairways and pits, and a lot of nothing.  I stood up slowly and pebbles rolled off of me.  I felt wet all over, and cold.  The whole place was cold and eerie.  I wanted to get out, but the path was narrow and winding, like a labyrinth with pits instead of walls.  There were chains and vines, but I couldn't reach them, and I could hear breathing and murmured conversations in the distance.  I started to walk, but it was hard to keep my balance.  On this walkway, I passed other people, but they were chasms away.  I started to smell inviting things, and I walked faster.  I couldn't feel my toes, because they were frostbitten.  That made it easier to move.  

"I knew a lot of the people.  I didn't call out to them because they were missing parts of their bodies and because they were people that don't like me.  And some people were on the same paths as others.  There were even some on mine, ahead of me.  I could hear them.  They were laughing, waiting for me to get there.  I was afraid of them.  I knew what they were going to do to me.

"So when I saw you, I smiled and called out to get your attention.  You offered to help me.  You told me not to be afraid; that you'd protect me.  You were wearing that red coat, only it was longer and it waved around you really strange and heroic.  I fell to my knees and waited, but I realized your path wasn't connected to mine, and you were too far away to reach.  So I told you I was wrong, and I changed my mind, that I was free and didn't need your help.

"You didn't believe me, and kept spouting this heroic stuff, so to prove it I walked on ahead, and your voice faded away.  I kept walking proud and upright even though I could see them ahead of me and…they were…I…couldn't…"  At that point, she broke into tears.  As she had rarely done in the last half century, she bawled incoherently.  The violence and horror of her past flowed back in one rush, reducing her to the quivering mass that was nearly oblivious that Vash was holding it.

He clutched her as she shook, knowing the moment was rare and genuine.  He knew it was best to let it out.  Crying made him feel better, too.  He'd often thought that Vanessa needed to cry more, to help her loosen up.

But after a while, her body softened and she grew tired.  It was time for Vash to go to Meryl's anyhow.  He waited until she was still and whispered, "Are you okay, now?  Do you want me to stay with you?"

"No," she choked out.

Vash handed her a cloth to wipe away the tears and mucous and such that resulted from a good cry.  Her face was all red and puffy.  He figured she wanted to be alone, so he stood.

She didn't have the chance to interpret the dream for Vash.  She felt she knew it now, since the second time around the tale was clearer and without frivolous detail.

Suddenly remembering the little black case she'd brought from Joseph's, Vanessa pulled forth her new eyeglasses and carefully set them upon her nose.  She had been wondering what her first sight should be with them, and had waited until this moment.  Turning towards Vash, she opened her itchy eyes, trying to focus as the suddenly sharp shapes shocked her vision.  But all she caught was the sight of his back as the door closed behind him.


	33. CHAPTER ELEVEN: Consider the Possibilit...

CHAPTER ELEVEN:  Consider the Possibilities

PART FOUR…Blank Ticket… 

"Where the hell is that idiot?" Meryl exclaimed to herself.  She reached over, up the wall next to the couch, to lift the lights brighter.  She'd been sitting there, as lovely as possible, for two hours now, in the dark, attempting to create a mood.  "If he stands me up, I swear, I'll…"  As an instinct, she felt at her side for the Derringers, but of course they were long gone, melted for recycling before boarding the ships.

She slapped her forehead suddenly, realizing her mistakes.  Threatening Vash with violence had always been a horrid idea, and she wished she could take back all the times she had.  

Besides, it wasn't his fault she was waiting like that.  It had been Meryl's obsessive-compulsive want to get ready hours before they agreed to meet.

Glancing down, she wondered if this outfit was appropriate.  The neckline of this dress was low enough that her collarbone showed, as did her arms.  It was still rather conservative, but she simply wasn't accustomed to anything that didn't cover her from the neck down completely.  She tugged at the hem of the skirt, pulling it over her knees.  No, this wouldn't do.

Before she could move to change, the door chimed and she pressed the shutter open without thinking.

And there he stood, that angel of a man.

The choked sounds of sobbing filled the tomb-like apartment after the loneliness set in.  When had she learned to feel lonely?  Or had she just not noticed it before?

Over a great, empty expanse of time, her body wore down and she lay, relaxed only from exhaustion, onto the hard floor.  The dress she wore bunched up to her knees and down past her shoulders, exposing warm scars.  Her nostrils were clogged completely, her eyes swollen and itchy.  Her chest spasms subsided some, but the crooked hand that wrenched at her heart remained.  "Hurry up and take it," she whispered hoarsely to no one.  "I don't need it anymore.  Stop teasing…"  She chuckled at herself, but the chest pain stopped her.

Her head pounded, reminding her to unclench her jaw.  The sharp back teeth had cut into her gums and tongue, but the metal taste of blood only complimented her mood.  The cold and metal of this existence was perfect – a more appropriate tomb than the cave had been.  It was what she wanted and deserved.  How dare she think she had the right to cause him pain?  How dare she want him?

Vanessa was a female plant, around a hundred years old.  Her life flashed quickly before her eyes, so fast because she had retraced her steps too many times to count.  Pity and sadness were her vices, and she played the role of the sacrificial lamb as if she knew no warmth.  

Vash deserved children, and with such uncertainty in their DNA otherwise, the safest avenue for his happiness was Vanessa's womb.  But there are other ways to give the gift of a child than as mother and wife.  Letting Vash follow her was silly.  Their futures must be separate, and her paintings had been telling her that all along.

Truly, she was wrong for Vash.  But, she realized in a stroke of genuine selfishness, Vash was bad for her as well.

Vash smiled and walked towards her, his hair slicked back up into the old, spiky look.  He had his hands tucked into his back pockets and stopped a foot before her, standing with slightly poor posture.  "I was so busy with my brother and my problems that I ignored something important."  He knelt before her and placed his palm on her shoulder.  "Meryl, can you forgive me for not noticing you?"

With a weak smile, she nodded.  "Yes, of course.  Can you forgive me for being so demanding of you?" she countered.

Grinning, he nodded.  "It wasn't so bad, though.  You're a strong person with a strong personality."  He put his other, prosthetic hand atop her hand and stared down into her eyes as he spoke.  "But you've changed, haven't you…You're more real to yourself now.  But you won't forgive yourself."

Meryl blushed, not about to open her mouth and interrupt him.  She wondered if he was referring to that which she told no one as her head felt lighter.

"Just because you did bad things doesn't mean you can't transcend them.  Your penance is over.  Mine's not, but maybe now I can work through it with the people that care about me."  He grinned nervously.  "Your eyes are pretty when you laugh."

How random, she thought, ever the critic.  But she felt as though ablaze, eyes lighting up as she smiled and squeezed his hand.

"May I go with you when we land?  If I'm not being chased by blood-thirsty killers, that is?" he asked, eyes filled with a child-like hope.

"Vash, if they were chasing you, I'd be chasing you, too."  God, he was beautiful.  With tears brimming in his eyes, and those loose hairs falling into his eyes just right…Meryl bit her lip from it all.  "Is this right?" she murmured.  "What about-"

Putting a finger up between them, Vash stopped her.  "I've decided, and I'd like to explain some other time.  Tomorrow maybe.  Some things are iffy, still.  Don't worry, though.  It's right for me, so if it is for you..."

Nodding, Meryl awaited his next word or action in awe.  Finally, someone telling her NOT to worry, and really meaning it.

"Forgive me for wanting to take things really slow.  But, um, if it's okay, can I just…" he whispered, leaning in to kiss her.

See why that took me so long to write?  My, my…I'll try to write again soon, as I have much in store for my poor readers.  Mwa ha ha.  ~Jillian S.


	34. CHAPTER TWELVE: Can A Phoenix Have Scar...

CHAPTER TWELVE:  Can A Phoenix Have Scars?

PART ONE…Ashes to Ashes … 

After passing a long line of men carrying large, square paper cases, Salem switched from hugging the wall to sauntering down the center of the hall.  His gaze was on the regular slats of the flooring.

Salem stopped the moment he recognized her.  It wasn't her face he knew so much as her feet – she was the only person barefoot on these ships.

"Hey, what's new?" he asked casually.

Vanessa gripped the front straps of her bag and looked up to him through her new lenses.  "Salem."  Without hesitation, she sidestepped out of the way of another two men, these carrying stacks of smaller boxes.  

Head cocked back to watch the men trample down the hall behind him, Salem nodded.  "How's Vash doing?"

"Better than ever.  But you need to go back now – it's not about you, and there's nothing positive you can do about it, except to accept their decision gracefully.  You're a kind man.  Meryl's heart just wasn't with you," Vanessa explained softly, words flowing like impersonal prose.  "No need for scenes now.  Drama will only make things harder on them both, and after all of this, believe me, they don't need any more grief."

Eyebrow up, Salem slumped against the wall.  "Right.  Well.  Um."

Pushing her rectangular, narrow glasses up her nose, Vanessa continued.  "They have a history.  Fate wasn't with them on Gunsmoke, but now they're 'fessed up.  He's right for her, and vice versa.  Who are you to judge?  Don't be upset.  Don't hate them.  But for God's sake, don't go there.  Go anywhere, but don't visit Meryl's ever again."

"Jesus Christ.  She's been cheating on me," Salem grunted, head in his hands.  His teeth ground together loudly.  "With who?"

"Technically, the infidelity is only in their minds.  Now maybe it can be physical.  She's with the man she worships, the one that worships her - the most suffering, gentle man who ever lived.  You asked me how he's doing…Now, I think, he's just perfectly fine."

He didn't turn to watch her shuffle down the hall behind him, his shock blinding his thought.

"Poor man," she called behind her.  "You'll always be dear to her.  But go home – I warned you."

Approximately 14 hours and 8 minutes later, Salem realized that while he had spoken with Vanessa, her ears were showing, and they were really long and pointy…Remarkably so.

Vash and Meryl sat, softly giggling, exchanging kisses here and there.  Though they were close together on the sofa, it was still quite innocent, only their fingertips exploring the fingertips of the other.  They would sit like this, reminiscing and storytelling and being far too adorable for hours until Vash felt the need to sleep for classes tomorrow.  Once the door shuttered between them they began to wonder how to deal with their current significant others.

Meryl sighed and slid by her back down the door shutter.  Once on the floor, her hand slid upon a page.  The letter was brief and hasty, since Salem's sloppy writing only worsened with stress.  However, it was far more bittersweet than bitter, and Meryl smiled softly as a tear dropped from her chin and onto the paper.

The letter Vash found, however, was left as impersonally as the clean, empty spaces where she used to keep her canvases and supplies.  The note was projected onto the wall in the darkened apartment, only a sentence or two.  Stiff text explained that she had erased her current tracking data and moved in with a distant lover.  The final line read, "If you try to find me, I will know, and I will consider it a contemptible and unforgivable insult to my resolve and intelligence."  In lieu of a true ending, following the text was a deposit record, indicating that a hefty sum of credits had been put aside for a Ms. Tessla Saverem, with a Mr. Vash Saverem, single widower, as exclusive guardian; Ms. Tessla's biological mother, Mrs. Penance Mariposa-Saverem, having died in childbirth back on Gunsmoke.

Strangely, Vash didn't cry.

There are times when one may think that, at such an ungodly hour of the night, a man will leave his bed for nothing.  But it had been easy to gather this group of men to move her things, once a large sum of credits was introduced.  The men smiled with tired eyes as they accepted the funds and walked out.  A few men were kindly – that, or they assumed more credits could be earned – and they stayed behind to offer more assistance.

"No thank you, I won't be unpacking," she replied, her eyes far more tired than their own.  "In fact, I may not end up living here at all."

            On the way back home, the men whispered excitedly about her appearance and behavior and ears and scars.  They also couldn't come to an agreement on what kind of bribe she must've used to an official in order to get herself an empty apartment, especially in such short notice.

"Bitch is crazy.  Looks like one of those cybernetic-enhanced assassin types we used to see back home.  Got rich off killing, and now she's got no place in life.  Probably insane now, and if she got the place like I say, a whore, too."

His companion shook his head and chuckled.  "Can't disagree completely.  But when I'm drinking some of this money away, I'll cheer her as a goddess 'till the booze leaves me."

Their stifled laughter faded down the hallway, filling those freakishly long ears.

Vanessa's face was blank as she stood, arms folded behind her back.  She opened her eyes and leaned off of the wall to begin to walk soundless away from the apartment she'd filled with her belongings.  Along the way, she pulled the thread stitching from the shoulders of her dress, and tossed the sleeves into a trash chute.  The ship's cold, artificially circulated air hit the bare skin of her arms for the first time.

A security guard licked his finger and turned the page of this dusty, old girly mag a Gunsmoke immigrant had slipped him the other day, in exchange for not writing the guy up for a small possession charge.  It was primitive, but somehow quite enjoyable, to see such images on paper.

When she cleared her throat impatiently, he uncrossed his legs, dropped the magazine, and sat up straight in a flurry of embarrassment.

"I need to talk to your superior.  Or his superior…Or whoever's the highest up, that's awake.  Actually, wake whomever up.  Please hurry."

He was slow to react, since he was too busy scanning this odd woman.  Ears, face scars, arm scars, shoulder and neck scars…But nevertheless alluring.

"Are you listening?"

Lieutenant Stevens rushed to keep up with Colonel Turlington.  The Colonel was still fastening his uniform jacket, and unkempt bed hair peeked from the sides of his cap.  "Sir, should the men be informed, or will we write this off as insanity?  After all, this could spark riots, if it's true."  Stevens wiped the sweat from his brow.  "Even our scientists have never seen one in the flesh before.  The implications-"

"Shut up, Lieutenant," the Colonel snapped angrily.  "Probably a lie, a wives' tale the bitch's drawing on for attention.  Sputtering like that, man, you should be ashamed of yourself.  If she's causing a scene, she ought to have been taken to a secure location immediately, considering.  I'll handle it from here."

As they neared the 18th sector's security desk, the men could hear the prattle and discern the words.  "…core against what's left of mine I can form a weapon, to destroy targets from miles away.  The dissection took most of the material I needed.  See the scars?  Call up a physician – clearly, most of these are over 50 years old.  I'm at least a hundred.  I stopped aging nearly a century ago.  I was born in a-"

"Come with me, miss, we'll get you to your family soon," the Colonel interrupted, taking her by the arm and leading her into a nearby interrogation room.

"No," she demanded, punctuated by the sound of the heavy door slamming sideways, a shutter design sideways from the residential doors.  "I have no family, and I don't want my acquaintances contacted or questioned in any way; they have nothing to do with this.  I'm a plant, I'm not human, I'm a weapon and a freak.  I've been de-clawed more or less, so I'm useless really, and I'm sure on Earth you people studied us enough that my physiology and usefulness is old hat.  So do with me what you please.  I'm through hiding," she ended, laying her hands calmly on the table with a gentle smile. 


	35. CHAPTER TWELVE: Can A Phoenix Have Scar...

CHAPTER TWELVE:  Can A Phoenix Have Scars?

PART TWO…Tinkering With … 

Kicking her feet wildly below the table, Callisto watched the monitor intently.  Now and then, her ever-smiling face broke into a giggle or sigh, head cocked to her right to stare intently at the feed.  Suddenly, she became stern and climbed atop the table to bend over the device beside her and fiddle with the wiring and hardware.  She checked the screen, bent back to mess with another thing, and settled back into the grinning rapture.

All the while, Knives knelt on the floor before the screen, grasping the edge of the table breathlessly.  His eyes barely blinked, but the stoic expression became increasingly somber until, hours later, he was truly frustrated.

"If you look long enough you'll feel them," Callisto offered helpfully.  "But can you make me dinner now?" she asked casually, clicking the device off until the hum died to silence.  She padded out of the room in her oversized work boots.  The top of her work suit was dangling from her waist, the far too baggy pants rolled thrice about her ankles.  She'd been hard at work on something that day, and wore a tank top that was still a bit damp from sweat.  The little thing was as pale as the moon and saw no daylight, it seemed.  But whatever work she was doing was life for her – the blush of her cheeks highlighted her ever-enthusiastic activities about the plants.

He only watched her leave for a moment this time, for this enigma of an object baffled him.  Any fool could understand its workings, he surmised haughtily, but what did she see that he didn't?  She'd shouted to him when he entered that afternoon that she'd discovered the way to understand the plants.  But this…surely this was a child's daydream.  This device measured something, surely, but it must only be blood pressures or pheromones.  Callisto may have seen something more in that monitor feed, but he certainly did not.  What a grand imagination the young have, he chuckled half-heartedly.

Over dinner, Callisto shoveled spoonfuls into her mouth, perhaps swallowing without tasting.  It would've insulted Knives a bit, but his mind was elsewhere.

Though it was a silly fear, he wondered if Callisto would up and leave him as everyone else had. It was nearly impossible, after all. Without reason or want for suicide, or a means of long-distance land or space travel, neither were truly going anywhere. However, Knives had a poor track record of being abandoned and betrayed, or at least he felt that way. Callisto was becoming no grand exception from that rule. She'd begun pushing him away since she was three months old. 

As he watched her finish her meal, the space the table created between their bodies may as well have been an ocean. The little being he'd raised from the bulb, the one he prayed and cried for – here she was, and she was glorious. This little blonde angel was perfectly intelligent and witty and lovely, but she was lacking in the one, key thing he didn't have the foresight to ask for – adoration for him. She loved Knives as a daughter loves a father, but she could never want more from him than to feed her occasionally and, at all other times, to leave her alone. He expected to raise a lover, a friend, a life mate, a soul mate, a familiar. But she would never even be his companion.

She grinned, bits of corn stuck to her lower lip, and returned to the plate. Was she oblivious to his pain, or did she relish it? Perhaps she knew everything, and wanted to ignore it for fear that any of it should come to pass. It wasn't fair to assume that she'd want Knives around at all, he surmised, since she was equipped enough, physically and mentally, at this ripe age that she really didn't require any of his services or company. Those smiles and such, they were only pity? No, he couldn't let himself believe that yet.

He missed her so much all of the time. Knives was always traveling iles and iles out of his planned routes just to have a meal with her. She, however, wouldn't even come out to greet him until she'd completed whatever petty thing she was doing when he came in. Why didn't she respect him, if only for the mere fact that he was a plant as well, or that he was her elder by over a hundred and fifty years. Did time mean nothing to this fledgling masterpiece? Had he not stressed kinship enough? Was it because she had not known the true evils of the human race, to compare with their own race and conclude that they were superior and special?

Callisto was clearly comfortable with the silence. It was when he opened his mouth to speak that she winced, ever so slightly – almost too faint a gesture to detect, and one that he had missed or ignored countless times before.

"The tomas have been struggling lately," he prattled off, casually. "I won't be coming around much anymore."

She looked straight into his eyes and shrugged her shoulders. "Okay."

He cleared his throat. It was tough to keep this calm composure at such a response. "You should have the provisions you need, but I'll come by once in a while to stock the kitchen." Knives waited, got no clear answer, and continued. "It could be weeks, maybe months."

"Dramatic!" she exclaimed. "Don't worry, I'm fine by myself. You need to slow down anyways, and rest up instead of coming out here all the time," she added helpfully.

Knives' stomach dropped and the blood rushed cold from his upper regions. It seemed to prove his paranoia that she wasn't the least bit bothered by the proposition of spending months in his absence. He assumed she was hiding excitement. She looked so jolly, somehow more at ease than before. How dare she?

As much as he could wished to cover his fears with anger, he couldn't muster the strength. It would've been easiest to weep aloud. If he opened his heart to her wouldn't it help? No, his heart reminded him, pulling forth memories of Vanessa's rejections. Openly weeping and sharing the innermost thoughts and feelings that took him so long to figure out – such things mean nothing.

Knives smiled and excused himself with a feigned yawn.

Callisto waved goodbye before darting out into the hall, bound for some stupid task, he guessed. Some pointless escapade so intriguing that she wouldn't even think to lead him to the door or give a hug.

The pressure in his temples was too much. He walked quietly back through the kitchen area and into a dusty storage room. In a flash of light he sent blades flying through the room, shredding containers and shelving into fine slices. Once it was all lain to waste, he sighed. That wasn't enough, but it would have to do. After catching his breath and cursing softly, he marched out, locking the door before returning to his cart. In his haste to leave, he forgot Nuisance in the plant compound, and was unwilling to return for her. That damned animal always went wandering when he visited and often it took hours to locate her. He assumed Callisto would feed and care for her, and was too prideful and anxious to go traipsing back through the complex for such a disobedient feline. 

It was an amazingly cold and long night, and he rode to his shack shivering. 


	36. CHAPTER TWELVE: Can A Phoenix Have Scar...

CHAPTER TWELVE:  Can A Phoenix Have Scars?

PART THREE…Confessional … 

"Vash the Stampede?"

The interrogating officer shook his head.  "I'm tired of hearing those ridiculous stories.  As a plant you surely don't buy into that nonsense; plants have high intelligence quotients."

Vanessa didn't laugh.  She sat pressed against the wall on the floor, across from the two men.  The room was comfortable and she had been well fed.  However, there was no furniture or décor to this cell of hers, and though it had a view of the stars and a soft, cushioned floor, it was completely devoid of objects.

"I don't mean to be rude, miss.  But we're having difficulty putting all of this information togeth-"

"He existed, and he destroyed that portion of the fifth moon from Gunsmoke's surface, and all of that massive damage and millions of deaths were, in fact, his fault.  He was a plant," she snapped, exhausted and offended.  Her glasses hardly hid the deep grooves in her cheeks, below her eyes.  She had slept but a few hours since 'admitting' herself, unable to rest for fear that someone may assault her.  Death she had expected, at least partially.  But this uneasily friendly act was frightening.  Without warning, she'd suddenly found herself faint for fear of rape again.  They hadn't laid a hand upon her since that colonel had led her to her first holding cell.  But paranoia like that dies slowly.  "He was a plant and he killed millions, and he died when he used all of his power and his hair turned black.  He died, and I knew him, and he showed me that I could form a weapon, too.  But mine was partially removed, like I said, and when he formed his arm a little at my core, in my back, I could make the weapon."

"And your ears and back and teeth are deformed from the bulb," he recited from memory.  "I hope you understand this questioning.  We're put in an awkward situation here, because, as you know, we're still five weeks from touchdown, and-"

"Even if I claim I can't destroy anything, you can't chance doing a thing with me, for fear I'd lied and will blow up everything, right?"  Vanessa sighed.  She wasn't sure what she expected anymore.  A change maybe.  An end to the fear.  She wanted to shout to the mountaintops (whatever those look like) that she was a plant.  Forget kinship and prejudice and equality, she just wanted it out in the open.  There really wasn't a thing to gain, except an excuse to stop grinding her teeth in her sleep in anticipation of being found out.

"Aren't you going to eat your lunch?" he asked politely.

She shrugged, expressionless.

The man looked genuinely concerned.  "All of our passengers are important to us.  You are especially important, as someone of rare and special talent."

This elicited a tiny grin upon her face.  "A bold comment."

"And why not?" he replied warmly.  "A plant of your wisdom is above human trickery, am I correct?"

"No."  A dry, cracked laugh flew towards the ceiling as her head tipped back against the wall.  She caught her breath after a moment and muttered, "If it was true, I wouldn't be here."  The comedy left her as she scanned the man again.  The metal decorations and attachments were gone from his uniform.  Any and everything that could be used as a weapon or suicide device was kept from her.  They thought she was insane.  Or, at the very least, a bit unstable.  They wanted her alive.

"We can show you the results to your exams if you'd like."

She shook her head.  "No surprises, I'm sure."

He smiled slightly.  "I suppose not."

"You haven't looked for my friends, have you?" she accused in a whisper.

"No," he replied, too quickly.

This was a bad sign.  Vanessa's chest tightened uncomfortably.  "They don't know anything.  And if they..."  Her voice cracked, and she coughed before continuing.  "The man I was with…he…We were pregnant.  It didn't survive.  Probably because of the species problem.  But if he…it was bestiality.  Technically.  That's…Please don't let anyone know.  Please just let them think I'm gone.  They can forget about me this way."

"I doubt we'd need to contact them," he replied, not very reassuring in words but gentle in tone.  "We just want you to be comfortable.  We'd like to help you."

"Help me do what?"

"We're not sure yet.  Neither are you, I suppose, since you won't give us any requests about yourself."  He smiled again, in that way a therapist does to a patient he'd roll his eyes and joke about later on.  "But please eat.  It's not poisoned, I can assure.  Now, would you like to talk some more, or would you like to be alone?"

"Alone with a canvas and paints.  But I already know what that's not going to happen," she answered before he could explain.  "Since that's not a possibility, stay and tell me what's been excluded from the history texts.  What happens to a plant on Earth?" she demanded more than asked.

He nodded soberly.  "I'll be sure to get you whatever information I can as soon as possible.  But it's rather a mystery to us as well.  There are plenty of laws on file regarding your species, but it's been at least three hundred years since a case has come up in the media.  So, well, regarding your question specifically, I don't know what would happen if you attempted to enter Earth society.  But we have time to consider that.  Get some rest, and I'll ask them to bring you another warm meal.  Something nicer, perhaps?"

The two men left her to her thoughts.  She stared down at her fingernails for a while.  After an hour or two she opened the tray and picked at the food, mainly just drinking some juice to ease her throat.  It was too hard to force food down a sore throat, especially when that throat was tight with curses and wails she wouldn't loose.  Vanessa curled onto her side on the pillow-soft floor and pulled the hem of her dress to study the threads a bit.  Her eyes tired and she closed them, picking her nose a little in the meantime.  Eventually she relaxed and fell into a tossing slumber.

Colonel Turlington wondered if any of the other superiors in the observation room had noted that little tidbit.  She'd spoken of a plant she knew on that desert planet.  One who'd used his destructive capacity so much without being stopped.  He'd used that evil power until he died.  Until his hair turned black, and he died.

The colonel was a learned man when it came to the mystical science of the plants, but he had never heard of a plant dying from blackened hair.  Before they could come to that, they would've been stopped…


	37. CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Freedom

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:  Freedom

PART ONE…Little Independent … 

A child can only miss a mother when her female parent acted as a mother ought.  It seemed, at least from Tessla's reactions, that Vanessa had never fit the bill.  She said not a word about the person's sudden disappearance since returning from that night's slumber party.  In fact, she seemed more carefree and pleasant since then.  And, seeing as her father was also happier about the change than he was depressed, days passed quickly and easily.

One thing that Tessla kept constant was the sleepovers.  Before, she had gone to friend's homes for most nights of the week in order to avoid her mother.  But after that awkward figure silently left her life, Tessla kept herself away from home so often in order to allow the budding romance to bloom when she was absent.  

She may have been young and naïve in the ways of love, but she giggled to think that her father was so enthralled and energized by the short human.  

Some nights Tessla was host to her friends, but instead of coming to her own home, she brought them to Millie and Meryl's.  Millie was a perfect hostess and was wildly entertaining, bonding with the youngsters despite her lack of coolness.  And though on some of these nights Meryl stayed the night in her own abode, most times she did not.  And no one seemed to mind that at all.

Except Millie.

She felt guilty about second-guessing her best friend's relationship with Mr. Vash.  However, her mother had always told her that you shouldn't get break up someone else's relationship.  

Millie felt that Miss Vanessa was rather remarkable, having up and left without any drama, considering that Meryl had essentially 'stolen her man.'  And then again, Miss Vanessa had too easily abandoned her daughter, and even if it didn't bother little Tessla that her mother was missing, it still wasn't right.  

Mr. Vash and Meryl were so happy.  But was it all in equilibrium or not?

In fact, Millie had felt so bewildered about the moral dilemma that she was the only one of the bunch to go searching for Miss Vanessa.  It was all in vein, though, because Miss Vanessa wanted to disappear and was clever enough to have done the job well.  She'd changed her name, apparently, because all records of a Mrs. Vanessa Saverem had been eradicated from the ship's open roster, even before the date she'd gone missing.  Even the credit deposit in Miss Tessla and Mr. Vash's names was from an anonymous source.  Though everyone she consulted about the matter thought that the anonymous gift was an anomaly, they simply thought Millie was crazy for thinking there had ever been a Mrs. Vanessa Saverem.  They cited the ship roster and shook their heads, rolling their eyes when she walked away.

Strangely, the people who'd viewed Miss Vanessa's art show and those who purchased paintings claimed there was no such person.  Instead, they claimed the works were created painted by some unseen artist, using an alias of that name and posing that odd, blind, scarred woman as the creator.  Of course, that woman didn't paint those things, and her name wasn't the alias.  How did they know this?  Because an article had been posted a week or so ago, divulging the mystery.

One woman was so blunt in her belief that she accosted Millie for doubting it.  "You must be slow, young lady, to think that a blind thing like that could have painted with such exquisite detail."  Millie had become quite red in the face and excused herself from the woman's doorway that time.  In fact, that marked the last time she made an effort to locate Miss Vanessa on the ship.

In this manner, Millie was unable to discuss Miss Vanessa's motivations and feelings in person.  She could only guess and dream.  And she had to be as nonjudgmental as possible around the lovebirds, since it really wasn't her business anyways.

Knives was also in a moral dilemma of his own, as strange and foreign as the concept may have seemed for the plant.  Indeed, he shared this conflict between a want to act and a want to mind his own business.  Nameless days had passed since he'd seen Callisto's delicate face, and he had nightmares every night of her situation.  He wanted to protect her from the things he feared, but held himself fast.  The best way for him to gain her favor was to starve her of his contact for as long as he could stand.  After all, she would come to crave his presence, and when he finally returned to visit her (unless she in her fervor came to visit him first) she would be overflowing with joy.  Surely, this would make her love him.

The cat and the plant angels caused him great grief, however.  He worried that he may not have taught young Callisto to adjust the plants well enough, but he knew that in truth she was a pro.  And though it was a cat, and no more, he missed Nuisance's constancy and simple affection.  He, at the very least, wondered if Callisto was feeding her adequately.

Every excuse he thought up to see her fell burning to his feet.  She was too well suited to being alone.  He had, over the months, stocked her plant complex with provisions so well that she wouldn't run out of food for at least a year.  Callisto had all the food, water, books, equipment, and patience required to be without him for a long time.

Mentally, he earmarked a day a month from the present, to go and retrieve the cat.  Nuisance liked running through the greenhouses, and after a total absence of three months would surely want to return to them.  Yes, he would visit the plant complex in a month.  If he happened to see Callisto when he was there, well, so be it.  But it wouldn't be a trip to see Callisto; no, it would not be for that.

Knives really thought himself a clever devil for this one.  Oh, wasn't he just the smartest plant on the planet?  Wasn't he?


	38. CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Freedom part 2

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Freedom

_PART TWO…Destination … _

"Attention, crew and civilians:  The ships are set to dock at Earth's surface, continent North America, area six five zero, at hour eleven.  Please lay or sit on a cushioned surface and await further instructions before leaving the ship.  Thank you and welcome to our planet."

Vanessa banged her fists against the cold, metal door.  "Give me my glasses!" she shouted, assuming they could hear her through spying devices, if not by sheer sound travel through the walls.  "Damn you, my glasses!"

Her hands began to bleed, and before a droplet could hit the padded floor, the door shuttered open.

"Vanessa, please refrain from harming your person," the calm man asked gently, kneeling just inside the doorway as the shutter closed again. 

She sneered and rushed to the window, tapping the plastic with her forefinger.  "I want to see it.  I've come this far, and I can't see it without my glasses, so bring-"

"Surely you understand, we cannot allow such items in your presence, as the materials they contain may pose a threat to your health."  He privately envisaged the frames as shivs, the lenses broken into glass blades, slicing into human flesh and the plant creature's throat and wrists.  He wasn't the first to think the same.

Growling frustration, she banged the window with her fists, much as she had earlier upon the door.  "If I only get to see it once, let me do so with clear sight!" she half-commanded, half-begged.  Sighing, she dropped her hands to her lap and let her shoulders sag.  It was useless to claim that she wouldn't attempt suicide, and she hadn't ever tried to argue the point.  Considering her position in this matter, it was perfectly logical that she would attempt to end her own life, regardless of the truth.  And she herself wasn't even sure of the truth.  "Tie me to something so I can't possibly do anything with them, but please…"

The man breathed slowly and pressed his fingertips into the cushioning beside his legs.  "I'll see what we can do for you," he offered simply, pausing again before standing and exiting, ever the calm little bastard.

This left Vanessa breathless, heart pounding furiously as she stared blankly down into space, wishing she could tell which glowing orb was the one.  Hell, she couldn't even know if they'd let her touch the soil, let alone if they'd kill her before landing.  And even if they didn't kill her, they'd surely keep her in a way that she wouldn't see the outside world again.  If she didn't see it now, she never would.

They were approaching fast, and by the time the men came, Earth was growing in definition.

These men were all rather large and muscular, but without weaponry for obvious reasons.  Four grabbed her all at once as she stared into the void.  Two wrapped their arms around each of her arms, hugging her limbs tight to their chests.  Another grabbed her around her waist from behind, pressing one arm into the soft under her ribs and the other arm reaching forward to hold her folded legs still.  The fourth stood behind her and to the side, swooping in above his companions to perform a secure headlock without making her lose consciousness.  There was one more figure in the room, the soft-spoken man from before.  He slipped her glasses upon her nose.

Strange that she didn't struggle or lose composure, but through those lenses she saw the Earth, and noticed that it grew to double every fifteen minutes or so.  She could see the oceans and atmosphere, the green of some places and the dull of cityscapes in others.  Without a word or a muscle twitch, she saw the Earth.

Oblivious to the events so far in space, Knives mounted his cart and whipped the reins against the toma backs, speeding off to see his Callisto.  Finally, his self-imposed deadline was upon him, and he knew she would be pleased to see him once more.  His heart skipped far too many beats as he rode towards her complex, the cart heavily laden with colorful and tasty treats from his greenhouse.

Tessla and Meryl gripped Vash's cold, wet, flaccid hands as they walked to the exit.   He was still crying, gasping aloud.  But luckily the sound and sight was obscured by the thousands of other migrants from Gunsmoke who were clearly taken as well.  Closer and closer, they could see the blinding green of a million blades of grass and a billion leaves softly swaying.  The air hit them like a ocean wave, so humid and light in their lungs.

The delay in leaving was due to immigrants' reverence of the foliage.  They didn't have the hearts to step upon the grass, like children thinking their hands would be slapped away should they reach to take a porcelain figure from a dresser.  It took a lot of coaxing and shoving to persuade their movement into the single sun, greeted by the shining eyes of a hundred cameras.

There they stood, mere footsteps to the edge of the ramp.  In moments they would be on Earth, standing in the fresh light of a welcoming planet, amongst billions of humans.

Vash sniffled and sobbed, eyes pried open in wonder as his heart felt it would explode for joy.  There was fear as well, but who cares about uncertainty when confronting the beauty of nature for the first time?  And for Christ's sake – there were flowers!  And not just yellow flowers, but the red flowers Rem talked about, and pink and purple and orange ones, too!  Too many colors to count, and more species than he remembered learning about.  He felt the child and woman hugging him and heard their soothing voices, but it was all so surreal that he scarcely felt his feet shuffling towards the light.

A more commanding female voice broke through his joy, shouting at him louder and louder until finally he snapped free from his trance.  Meryl and Tessla tightened their grips on him, stiffening their bodies around him as if creating a living, breathing, protective shell.

"Vash Saverem, come with me.  Now!" the crewmember shouted, tugging him back into the maw of the ship.  She tore him free from his daughter and friends, dragging the tall, heart-weakened man by the upper arm as though he was a ragdoll.

He couldn't bring his vocal cords to move, to articulate an innocent question.  But he knew - and his heart sunk from the heavens to the fiery pits of Hades as the realization hit him – he had come this far, had nearly stepped foot onto hallowed soil, only to be found out as a criminal and weapon mere steps before reaching his goal.


	39. CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Freedom part 3

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Freedom

PART THREE...Relief ...

Vanessa, still held by the men in her room, stared with a small smile at the greenery outside. "I would say, 'I can die now,' but something tells me you aren't going to kill me." She blinked through her eyeglass lenses, never attempting to get loose from the grips of the four large men. "A life of experimentation? Will you use me for something? Go ahead, tell me, I'll figure it out soon."

"We hate to see you suicidal, Vanessa," the calm, standing man commented softly. "Don't you value your life at all?"

She snickered. "The life of a thing that was never meant to exist. Give me a reason to want a tomorrow and I'll reconsider."

Suddenly all arms left her and Vanessa felt the rush of cool air surround her. There she knelt, with the glasses upon her nose. Slowly, she turned to glare into the face of the calm man.

He had his arms crossed and looked down upon her with a touch of impatience. "You could do the deed if you want to. You're not going to, though, are you. Not now. We have a job for you on this planet, one that you'll not only enjoy, you'll find purpose in. If you turn down the position, you may well be free to go." He handed her a stack of papers, odd in this setting, and stood back. "Read it over and make your decision. Given your special situation, we will allow you to exit the ship, should you decline." He walked after the other men, exiting the room. "I doubt you will," he muttered, before the door shuttered closed between himself and the plant woman.

The calm man let an audible sigh of relief and paced away.

XX

Upon a stiff couch in a dim waiting room, Vash twiddled his thumbs. He had no clue how long he'd been there, maybe hours.

In fact, the time span was a mere ten minutes, but to a man assuming his freedom was about to end, reality was warped considerably. Vash was remarkably calm, however, and was nearly accepting of this loss. The humans were safe on a more hospitable planet now. Knives was safe, the humans were safe - the task was completed as efficiently as he could imagine. That Vanessa was swept into the storm of the drama was regrettable, but he assumed she was in a happier way now.

After that pause, Vash scrambled to find a pad of paper in a nearby desk and a pen. The pad was tiny, since paper was old fashioned and wasteful. But with a steady, left, artificial hand, he wrote all he could. In such tiny print, he wrote a gorgeous goodbye to his friends and his daughter.

He was quick with his vast words, and managed to write several tiny pages for each person he wanted to. But he had so many friends, so many happy faces he wanted to say goodbye to. Holding the cube of paper in his hand, he frowned to note that there weren't enough pages in it for all the things he wanted to say.

He would have cried, but that would have made it harder to write.

Stopping for a moment, he realized that his right arm was shaking. His entire body was shaking, really. Just slightly. Just enough that he couldn't have written with his real hand.

The door shuttered open and a short man, head hung low, stepped out. He seated himself on an opposite couch. Why he was there, Vash couldn't understand. He just shoved the note papers in his pocket, ready to make his request, that they be delivered to their intended recipients.

"Mr. Saverem, come into my office."

Obedient and somber, he shuffled toward the woman's deep voice. He sat gingerly, folding his hands upon his lap in a humble manner. Slowly, deliberately, he forced himself to meet her eyes.

She was glaring at him with a rage well hidden from her voice. "Do you know why you've been pulled aside, sir?"

Vash nodded slightly, face as innocent as ever.

"Good. Then you understand what we'll have to do."

A man was hiding behind the chair and came from a shadow now. He gripped Vash's arm and instructed him in an almost mechanical way not to move an inch, and to place his other hand with palm flat upon the desk before him.

Gulping the fear further down his throat, Vash obeyed this as well. He didn't even swivel his head to the left, to see the man cut away his shirt sleeve and bend down to stare.

"You have no idea how it offends me, as the head of security on this ship, that a rebel like you would go this long hiding it." The woman brushed her short hair behind her ears before continuing on her low, calmed tirade. "Normally this would get you jailed, sir. However, against my better judgment, I am not able to press charges. Laws are fuzzy between space and the surface, still. But you will be fined twenty thousand credits immediately, without trial, and your contraband will be confiscated and disposed of properly."

A loud metal click marked the moment, and the great weight disappeared from his left shoulder.

"Granted, this is an amazing device you have here, that you've gone this long without us suspecting anything," she continued. "But to carry a fully loaded, semi automatic weapon with primitive and completely destructive gunpowder ammunition...I am horrified to think of what may have transpired. You are a lucky man, Mr. Saverem."

Vash stood, minus an arm, hiding the biggest grin of his life. "Yes I am, miss."

She scowled again, narrowed her eyes, and dismissed him.

Like a puppy upon hearing the entry of its master, Vash bounded down the halls and into the sun.

XX

Vash knelt in plush grass, being hugged by a little girl, a little woman, and a big woman all at once. The group just held each other tight for that glorious moment, staring at flowers and trees while grasping onto each other for gravity. They'd made it. This was no hologram or geo-plant or bio-dome. This was Earth.

XX

Millie, Meryl, Tessla, and Vash were a group very close to the main exit of the ship. Actually, had Vanessa exited the ship that day, she would have stumbled upon them quite awkwardly. But things didn't happen that way, and Vanessa became truly separate from her 'family' for the first time since Knives had 'kidnapped' her. And this was no kidnapping.


	40. CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Career

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:  Career

PART ONE…Immortality Sucks … 

Brushing his hands together, Knives stood before the fresh-dug little grave and frowned.  He hated to lose.  

The little granules of dust and sand stuck to his fingers and palms and would not rub away; the birth-fluids had become sticky and acted as glue with the grime.  Poor little female cat was born with a limp and a bad hip, and the deformity made her pregnancy so trying.  The thing had struggled in labor for days before Knives returned from the plant buildings, and when he found her he had cut her open to save at least the kittens.  Sadly, the cat and all five unborn kittens were now cold in the ground.

Each newborn kitten usually gave him a spark of hope.  Perhaps there would be a new Nuisance among them, to be his companion as the legendary cat had.  All these seasons of cats in heat, and no companion had come since.

With neither haste nor boredom, he sauntered straight back to his cart and unloaded a few barrels.  Storing them in the shed beside the vast cat barn, he retired for the night into his shack, to note the day's events in his records.

Knives, over the years, had become much more than the sole plant manager for Gunsmoke.  He knew more about feline anatomy and medicine than perhaps any other creature had ever known.  So many cats lived that he had to build several large barns around his compound.  

In such a harsh climate, the only source of cat food was plant-provided, and he had learned to tweak a plant output for a high-protein feed once the tins of meats were far too scarce and deeply buried in sands to find.  Cats were the second species he kept alive on Gunsmoke, and rather than keep their log on the compound computers, he jotted their lineages and health incidents into paper journals.  The plant computers measured time, but it seemed too ridiculous to reference that.  After all, what is time in a plant compound?  No, it was far more logical to count in cat seasons, converted to Gunsmoke years, converted to Earth years.

To track the months, the years, he kept a concise reference in an index volume, upon each page the summaries of three full Earth years.  The journals it summarized were all stacked neatly onto a shelving unit that covered an entire wall of his shack.

Knives washed his hands in a low basin and took a stick of graphite to write in the open journal.  He copied the series of numbers from the ear tag he had cut away from the dead cat and noted the number and sex of the young.  Closing his eyes, he recalled that view of the cat graveyard, expansive and hidden, with no markers save for Nuisance's, near his shack.  It had been so long since Nuisance's bright face had stared into his own.  Nuisance didn't notice those years leaving her little body as she grew old and pathetic.  Nuisance didn't care about Callisto's absence.  Nuisance didn't mind filling a tiny bit of the void Callisto left within him.  

And how long had it been?  What day, so long ago, had he found Nuisance mewing in the silent plant complex, trotting after him loyally as he ran through the place?  

Knives retrieved his index journal and flipped nearly half way into the volume.  Just a bit of math.  Carry the one…

Approximately 96 years, 2 months, 3 weeks Earth time.

On Earth itself, his brother was meditating to forget the years.  Vash's hands, one real, one an amazingly real prosthetic, were busy changing the medicine patches on Meryl's thin arm.  

She smiled up into his face with closed eyes, waiting for him to finish and hold her.  "It feels so good when you hold me," she noted softly, as she had on a daily basis for far too long to count.

He hugged her from behind tightly, but careful not to stress her little body.  "You feel good to hold," he replied in a whisper.  Any louder and she would've noticed how tight his throat was, choking back tears again.  God, the man could cry.

But he wasn't depressed, really.  Vash managed to channel his emotions into happiness, for he had little to be sad about.  She wasn't feeling pain, and neither was he.  There was nothing to regret.  He and Meryl had been together for so long, and though they argued a lot, they had squeezed an awful lot of living into these years.

And though things could have been better between she and Tessla, the conflict was to be expected.  Tessla didn't want to be born immortal, but was coping beautifully.  All the moving and lying were tiring, and she hated not getting credit for her inventions, but she'd adapted well enough.

If only Meryl weren't so stubborn with her ethics.  Immortals can't always live by mortal morals.  If Tessla wanted to have a new man every week, and was able to avoid falling in love by doing it, then Vash saw no greater harm.  Millie hadn't understood, but never judged.  But Millie had died seventy years ago, killed by a mugger.  Tessla used to mourn the death as that of her true, understanding mother, and Meryl was always bitter that she couldn't have held that position in the plant girl's life.

But no matter.  The two were on very gentle terms nowadays.  Tessla and Vash both felt that Meryl hadn't much time left, and such quarrels meant nothing in the face of mortality. 


	41. CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Career part 2

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:  Career

PART TWO…Adapt … 

 Vash awoke, heart beating a little faster than it had in past years.  He brushed Meryl's crisp, white hair from her face softly and stared to see her breathe.  Sighing a soft sound of relief, he arose to clean up for the day.

Stepping out onto the busy urban street, he felt the device in his pocket.  Tessla invented this over forty years ago, after Meryl's first major fainting spell.  It worked much like the device Vanessa rigged for Knives back on Gunsmoke, with various sounds to alert Vash of any abrupt changes in Meryl's condition.  She was unaware of the sensor Tessla had hidden into a pendant Meryl wore at all times.

Tessla invented a great many things for this Earth, selling designs to engineers for hefty credit sums, sufficient to pay for her way through life, as well as Vash and Meryl's.  And with Meryl's medical costs rising, Tessla was busier than usual wracking her brain for ideas.

Vash himself hadn't had a paying job since Meryl became sick.  He'd been volunteering part-time at social services offices wherever they happened to relocate to, usually moving to a new location on the planet every two or three decades.  The population spoke mainly Chinese and Russian here, but language barriers were nonexistent for the 250-year-old plant.  

Social services was perfect.  He got all the human interaction his heart could handle, and was able to improve lives on a regular basis.  Teaching morals was his specialty, since all of the practice he had arguing morals to his brother gave him an edge on morality logic.

Scantily clad and professionally dressed women alike cast a glance at the naturally good-looking young man as he strolled down the sidewalk and into his office.  He grinned goofily at those he noticed, but with no afterthought and no sin.

"Vash, thank God, the workload today…here's the first five files of the morning," Sharva chirped in Russian, a tall thin woman with red hair.  "First up is a single mother with advanced anorexia with two delinquent kids.  Suspicion of long-term child abuse, plus the mother doesn't have long…"

Sniffling slightly, Vash let a few tears roll down his nose as he stared at the floor, listening to the case.  His coworkers never understood how he could cry every time he heard a case aloud.  After all, he'd been at that office for two years – you'd think he'd be used to it by now…

In the little pink debriefing room, a gray-haired Captain of Intelligence stood across a table from a short, bearded man.  The shorter man was patted down a fourth time and passed with sensors before being allowed to sit.  All the while, the Captain spoke, repeating in monotone the memorized instructions.  "Do not ask questions.  Answer as simply as possible, as honest as possible.  Lies will result in rejection of the proposal…"

The short man wiped sweat from his balding brow with a kerchief and listened intently, knowing that it all depended on him now.  As the man found himself alone in this odd room, he continued to sweat under the bright lights and became a little nauseous from the pink walls.  Of all colors…

He jumped as the door behind him shuttered open.  Heavy military boots clomped into the room.  A tall woman slowly walked to the opposite side of the table and seated herself.  She had a young, firm body, thin with long blonde hair.  Her black outfit was more daring than professional, with a skirt halfway above the knee and a sleeveless, low-cut top.  Nearly every inch of exposed flesh was riddled with scarring and her ears were pointed and long.  Her right eye was a deep turquoise color and the other a milky hue, dilated.  With skin nearly white and scars – the color pink that was echoed in the painted walls - she caused the man's jaw to go numb.

"Mr. Johannahs," she stated in a low voice.  "You have asked that Agent Peace take your case and come to the aid of the Canadian Rebel Faction.  Yes?"

"Yes," he choked out.

Her eyes narrowed a bit and she stared into his face carefully.  "So then, in your area of the Eastern Canadian coastline, the oppression of the people by the Canadian government is such that Agent Peace is needed to remedy the situation?"

"Yes, well, they-"

"And you personally witnessed three men taken down by Canadian peace officials in a secret assassination attempt…These men were not attempting to place a bomb nearby a government office within the city of Clarks, as the media claimed.  They were unfairly taken down.  Is this true, that they were not in the act of bombing the building?"

"Yes, it was an assassination attempt.  They weren't bombing anything."

The scarred young woman nodded.  "Do you deny that they were found with forty kilograms of concentrated explosive?"

"Those officials planted it on them."

She smirked for a moment and stood.  "I will take your request to Agent Peace, you'll receive your answer from Captain Rosquez in the lobby within the hour.  If you'll excuse me."

His eyes were glued upon her and he turned full in his chair as she slipped from sight through the shuttered door. It was such a brief interview, and he found himself baffled - distracted not only by attraction to her body but also curiosity and a bit of repulsion at her scarring.   

Rosquez met her in the hallway, a olive-complected man with deep lines around his jaw and salt and pepper hair.  He crossed his arms.

"Drop the case, begin investigations on his knowledge of explosives," she stated simply, straightening the hem of her skirt as she spoke.  "Just another terrorist faction.  Not particularly well thought-out, either."

"Yes ma'am.  I'll have a report sent out to Agent Peace immediately."

Walking to another interrogation room, Vanessa shook her head.  They really had no clue; thinking that a century ago some human man became the secretive Agent Peace.  Believing that the position has been carried through generations of men, armed with a weapon that no one has duplicated in all this time…

They not only got the species wrong, they guessed wrong on gender as well.  

Silly humans.  


	42. CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Recollection

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:  Recollection

PART ONE…He, Who Knows What She Wants … 

 The loft floor was solid, rough stone and had no windows upon its walls – only skylights.  Its entire ceiling was a skylight, and every inch of wall was painted with imagery.  But at the moment the moon was out and the images slept.

Slowly, lowlights rose, warming and waking the images from the bottom up.  The rows of tiny lights were mounted at the corners of the walls and flooring, spotlighting in places to create an eerily realistic depth on flat walls.  Faces and scenes seemed to writhe as the light gradually reached its goal.  

After the door slid closed behind her, she bolted five old-fashioned metal locks and tossed off her boots.  Vanessa pulled off her socks and sighed as her toes met the cold, harsh floor.  She tossed her clothes into a bin by the door and strolled to the center of the room nearly nude.  Staring up into the starry night from her low bed, she fancied that someone could be watching her.  But her home was too high for common peepers and satellites were secretly programmed not to notice her home.  Perhaps on some distant star or planet?

Her lifestyle granted her the benefit of choice.  A chauffeur took her to and from work daily, many miles away in the heart of the city.  This sanctuary was over an hour's commute from there, in a mountainous part of North America where few humans cared to venture.  She could view the sky without pollution and hear no sounds from the outside (there were plenty of animals and insects to be heard around her compound, but such were so unlike her homeland that she preferred to block them out at will).  Like her cave on Gunsmoke, here she was safe from humans, as they were safe from her.  

Who had more to fear from whom? she often wondered.  Clearly, all the humans had multiple sources for anxiety – their government, every other government, criminals, diseases, poverty, and whatever else they could find in media.  She was their least worry.

Humanity believed that Agent Peace could at any moment snap and attempt world domination.  Considering how little information the public knew - the extensive damage that she, in her code name, could create - this was a logical fear.  But all she wanted was to be left alone…most of the time.  Surely, her solitude and art brought relief and some pleasure.  If only she could figure out what was causing the nagging feelings during the remainder of her time.

The wall facing east bore a painting of Vash; Knives was painted upon the one facing west.  Their faces were blurry but certain details were picked out more clearly, as memory permitted.  The two brothers faced outward – not at one another.  Vash was staring straight out and slightly to the side, as if watching a passing crowd.  Knives looked more serious, facing up at the heavens.  When the floor lights were off, the sun illuminated the room symbolically as it moved across the sky.  

Vanessa rose, having caught her breath after walking up the four flights of steps to her front door.  She yawned and walked across the room to her small kitchen to heat up dinner.  When she reached for a glass from an eye-level shelf, she missed on the first try.  

Grabbing for it again, she pursed her lips.  She'd become accustomed to being blind in her left eye, and was happy that the tissue they'd transplanted from it into the right eye left her with perfect vision in the one.  But having such crappy depth perception could be kind of annoying.

That milky eye left was just another lovely mutilation, like the scars.  She kept no mirrors but had no shame for her appearance towards others.  Let them see their own evils upon my skin, she felt.  Like her missions, showing her scars off-duty was another attempt to inspire compassion in people.  

There'd be another mission tomorrow, her first this year.  Most of the cases reviewed at the Agency were simple matters that ground troops or negotiation could settle.  A fraction of remaining cases were miscommunications or outright lies.  Only the most select, delicate cases became Agent Peace's missions.  Tomorrow afternoon she'd be carefully transported to a remote location in central Africa.  The thick armor she would wear was not for protection, but for anonymity.  She would walk slowly towards the enemy complex – this time, the collection of tents where a rebel faction and its oligarchy of corrupt drug lords were planning a raid on a nearby village.  Before this sea of human anger, Vanessa would spread wide her artificially-maintained angel arm.  Meanwhile, loudspeakers behind her would list the demands in native tongues – that the criminal drug lords step forward for arrest, and the others surrender their weaponry and go home.  As probability would have it, they would most likely obey.  The great percentage of her missions ended that way.

Rarely did the enemy resist.  When they did, they typically would attack her.  The angel arm protected her (at a great loss of strength, but through the armor this was never apparent) from every backlash she'd encountered.  After that display, enemies tended to surrender.  

But as probability and human nature allowed, some had been killed.  Two times, enemies had committed mass suicide.  On four missions, enemies had managed to kill and injure the troops behind her.  Rarely – just seven times – Vanessa had shown her destructive abilities to difficult enemies, laying waste to warehouses or expanses of land in demonstration.  It was only that one mission when she'd killed anyone.  And she'd killed many.

She was convinced that those days were behind her.  After all, most of the cases when things got out of hand occurred very early in her career, before Agent Peace's legend was solidly established.  The Agency was making real leeway these days, and there hadn't been any large-scale wars, conflicts, terrorism, or genocides in the past sixty years.  Her role was symbolic, but she was still treated with the greatest respect and privacy, still handled by the few insiders who knew her true identity as if she had the power to wipe out half the planet.

And, now, she had that power.

Tomorrow would be a long day, so she crawled into bed early.  The lights were off and, resting on her side, she gazed lazily at the plant brother on the facing wall until she dozed off peacefully.


	43. CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Recollection part 2

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:  Recollection

PART TWO…Enlightenment… 

Sweat stung her eyes within the heavy helmet, and her impatience mounted.  They were telling her to stay in the armored vehicle, but they'd arrived several hours ago.  It NEVER took this long.  Bureaucracy, she thought to herself, this is surely just some stupid bureaucratic matter.

When she stood and exited the vehicle, no one stopped her.  Only higher-ups attempted communication with Agent Peace.  

Three men were pointing wildly at little holo-screens and arguing, but stopped as she walked past.  One chased after her a few paces and called out something about surveillance.  But she was becoming perturbed.  Even if these soldiers couldn't see her face to see this aggravation they were still afraid of Agent Peace.

Their troop was at a great distance from the enemy encampment – twice the distance in usual missions.  At a casual pace, she strolled across the grassland in her hot, black disguise armor.

Behind her, everyone informed of 'the problem' gritted their teeth and remained silent.

When she assumed her position, kneeling just outside of gunfire range, facing the encampment, she let her arms go limp and began to summon up her angel arm.  The skin of her back began to tingle and burn, and the overall effect of this and the African sun was miserable.  "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon…"

Finally, the loudspeaker far behind her boomed the conditions of surrender.  As the requests repeated, the angel arm grew into a writhing mass, wrapping from her back over her shoulders and facing the enemy in twirling hornlike projections.  From the two main horns, a series of tendrils grew and pulsed with energy.

With a large boom things went to chaos.  Gunfire began and soldiers yelled to each other in high-pitched, nervous pleas for information.  A woman with scope glasses shouted, "ground explosives, land mines!" as the smoke began to clear from the four, possibly five, large explosions in Agent Peace's vicinity.   Planes above released guided missiles and anti-aircraft fire thickened the sky.

Whistling sounds erupted, like hundreds of whips flying through the air, followed by crashes and, finally, booming explosives from fuel.  The whistling and destruction increased in speed and volume until reaching a crescendo and stopping suddenly.  Dust, fire, and smoke lingered in the still air.  Wounded soldiers moaned, and no sound was heard from the enemy line.  Their flesh no longer existed.

A team of officers rushed to Agent Peace through the fog of combat as soon as this end was reached.  They trashed their arms about before them to see something, anything, but dared not clear the smoke completely for fear that enemy intelligence might sight whatever of Agent Peace there was to see.  They buzzed to each other on tiny walkie-talkies built into their helmets until they were standing in a crater, surrounding a black lump.  Quickly and precisely they wrapped this lump in black, opaque plastic.  With the go-ahead, a hover plane landed beside this crew, clearing away the smoke and carrying the black-wrapped mass and two of the clean-up officers back to base.  

The remaining officers carefully scooped scorched earth into large steel canisters.  They made sure none of the secret Agent Peace's blood fell into enemy hands.

"They've sealed off the wounds and stopped the bleeding for now, but couldn't check vitals without compromising AP's identity," explained the debriefing sergeant to the leading medical officer as they rushed through the halls, up stairs, and onto the roof to accept the patient.  "An unknown number of foreign objects are lodged within the body in various areas and have not yet been removed.  We think it was a series of simultaneous landmines laced with shrapnel.  Simple, primitive, cowardly…"

The black lump of plastic was carried off the plane upon landing and loaded clumsily onto a stretcher.  The stretcher was taken to an elevator and only the two clean-up officers and the medical officer allowed to enter with it.  

The medical officer, Dr. Hatake, squirmed nervously, impatient.  He couldn't unwrap Agent Peace until reaching the emergency medical bay, where only himself and two cleared medical assistants could view the face of the legendary Agent Peace.  Of course, he'd met her before, for routine exams.  Like 99.9% of the Agency's personnel, his assistants had no idea who Agent Peace was.

Hatake noticed the round helmet under the plastic.  Glancing at his watch he calculated that she had approximately 7 hours of oxygen left.  A reflection to his left caught his eye.  He pointed to the metal canisters the two men were carrying.  "DNA is supposed to go to the labs; you missed your floor."

"This isn't that kind of evidence," explained the stern woman's voice, muffled by her helmet filter.  "We're refrigerating his-"

"Agent Peace is supposed to be invincible!" her male colleague moaned pitifully.  "How can this happen!?  We're all going to die!"  He slumped against the wall.

"Hold it together man!" Hatake sneered.  He turned again to the calm female officer.  "What are in those?" he asked, staring at the metal canister in her gloved hands, afraid of the anwer.

"Agent Peace's legs, sir."

After handing the canisters off to the assistants, the clean-up officers watched the clean, white door slide closed.  They took off their helmets and walked solemnly to the debriefing room.  There, they and the other members of their crew would be told to never disclose the details of what they'd seen, for fear of death.  Assassination was of little worry at the moment, however, as the all sat in silence, wondering what life with war would be like.  Without Agent Peace, who would save them all?


	44. CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Recollection part 3

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Recollection

PART THREE…Funeral… 

A simple bundle of white lilies fell onto the coffin and those watching might have thought that the limp arm that dropped them would fall in after them. Words of consolation fell upon deaf ears and were answered by a hollow, forced smile.

Tessla's heart stung as she waited for those present to leave, lest they see her comfort her father and discover who she was. Her father had touched many lives in this new city, and his many friends took their time in parting with him. She had few friends, except those who befriended her to gain something. But then, Vash's friends usually had something to gain from him, too, so perhaps friendships are overrated.

When finally daughter could hug father, Tessla held him tight. This was like a reverse of when she was small – he had seemed so big and strong then. Now, he felt so thin and frail, yielding and frightened. "Love you, daddy," she whispered.

"Love you, baby bear," he responded, sighing.

"Where to, daddy?" she asked softly, knowing her father well enough that he couldn't stand to stay in the same city as a loved one's grave.

"Dunno sweetie. Nippon again? Maybe the countryside this time?" With his daughter's slender arm about his drooping shoulders, Vash stepped away from the freshly filled grave. "Think you can stay in the guest bed tonight? I'll make us dinner and sleep on the couch-"

"And I'll make the arrangements first thing tomorrow morning," she added. "You can take whatever you want, and I'll have the rest donated."

Vash smirked, then sunk away in thought again.

"I'M still with you, daddy."

#####

"Landry, for God's sake, get that helmet off of her," Dr. Hatake muttered to an assistant before going to work cutting away bloody, tattered clothing.

Officer Landry figured that he'd heard Hatake wrong – he'd surely meant 'him.' But after releasing the airlock at the neck of the helmet and easing it off, he watched long, blonde hair spill out and a woman's whimpering moan filled the room.

"Agent Peace is a woman, get over it," Hatake growled, tossing the remains of her pants over his shoulder. "Vanessa, I'm giving you an anesthetic." He pressed a patch of chemicals onto her neck. "We'll explain things once you've awakened."

The only response was the continued string of strained noises. Vanessa's eyes were tightly shut and her teeth ground aloud. Sweat drenched her hair and skin, glistening on glassy skin that was dangerously pale.

The assistants, after having cleared away the fabric layers, were marveling quietly that her body seemed to have pushed the metal shrapnel bits to the surface of her torn skin. Penn and Landry merely had to look for them and lift them away, making quick work of it.

Hatake watched the monitors, eyes skimming numbers and graphs until he felt assured that her weapon wouldn't wake once he began to work. He'd been debriefed on the carnage caused by that day's weapon unleashing. That sort of massive death and destruction could tear this building to bits if Vanessa's body wished to 'protect' itself from his surgical exploits.

Now, her body was still, her breathing shallow.

After the shrapnel was cleared away, Hatake gestured to the metal canisters. "Landry, prep the left for reattachment. Penn, give her locals."

On the count of three, Hatake pulled away the seals from the ragged stump of her left leg, detached thirteen inches above the knee. Penn reached in and pinched off the main artery and main vein of this leg as soon as the seal let the blood spray free. These were tied off temporarily, as were the remaining blood vessels they could identify. A sensor light allowed them to see the nerves and mark them with tiny flags. Methodically, the cold, severed leg was treated in similar fashion, with matching tiny flags for each nerve. After hours of microsurgery, Dr. Hatake reconnected the blood vessels and nerves as best he could and sutured the skin, finally splinting the limb for muscle and bone to repair itself. With nary a pause between, they moved on to the right leg, severed seven inches above the knee, and repeated the procedure late into the night.

Hatake considered the surgery his greatest work, taking into account the limited staff and materials. Tight security caused a somewhat lower level of medical possibilities, yet he had, he believed, successfully joined each vessel possible. This was no small feat, considering that the severed wounds were large and extremely messy.

Quite a lot of blood was lost, and the intensity of the explosion burned away much of the skin on the thighs. Grafting was out of the question, since remaining skin was damaged by shrapnel and covered with often deep scarring already. For transfusion, human blood was out of the question.

Growing new skin or blood was also not an option. Sampling or growing tissue from her body had been considered illegal ever since her weapon-recreation surgery had completed, long ago.

#####

Hatake stepped into the narrow hallway after washing the blood and sealing from his hands. Eyes bloodshot and body sore from hours of work, he still had to face his superiors. "Operation was a success."

General Schloff nodded. He coughed and cleared his throat. "Full recovery within…?"

"Recovery is relative," Hatake responded uncomfortably. "Combat will be possible in a day or two, if a personal transport is prepared. However, it would be considerably less flashy. Lost a great deal of blood. Physical recovery will be slow, as one would expect, requiring rest and rehab. And psychologically-"

"Thank you, Dr. Hatake," the Colonel interrupted. "Your orders are to remain within this block until further notice. Dismissed."

Looking down at his blood-soaked medical apron, Hatake thought briefly of the gruesome medicine of centuries past. Then he slunk off to sleep, wishing he could go home to his wife instead.

#####

Because Tessla didn't like to use the holo-wall in her apartment, she and Vash were unaware of the destruction unfolding outside.

For the past several hours, reports were broadcast refuting claims that Agent Peace had been injured or killed. Official reports, however, did little to convince militant groups around the globe, and many countries found themselves amidst chaos. It'd been so long since such groups felt confident enough to act out their violent, politically charged desires.

The area in which Vash and Tessla lived – which they planned to leave that night – was rich with political unrest. Past law enforcement being as it was, they never would have thought it possible. But with a single automatic message to her com, Tessla's heart sunk. She hesitated to tell her father, finally deciding to leave her bedroom to break the news to him.

"Daddy," she stated soberly. "We won't be leaving today. The airport's been bombed…"


	45. CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Recollection part 4

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Recollection

PART FOUR…Immortal Limitations… 

"Baby bear, are you serious?" Vash asked softly, face tucked into a pillow where he lay.

She nodded, but he wasn't looking up. "You were right. That Agent Peace crap didn't last. They think he's been killed. All the wackos are out, now. Like you said, they used him as a crutch…"

"Killed?" he murmured, rising from the couch slowly.

Again, she nodded. "People have been attacking government and commercial centers around the globe, proving it's true. The military wasn't anticipating this; there aren't enough personnel to protect all targets. The airport…well…"

Vash seemed deep in thought. Pulling on a sweater, he scanned the floor for his boots.

Kneeling on the floor, Tessla stared her father in the face. "Daddy, are you nuts? What the heck are you gonna do? You can't stop terrorists-"

"I don't care if it does any good or not, I'm not going to sit here while people get killed. Where are those damn boots?"

"Up your ass, where your head is," she mumbled.

Ignoring her, he crouched down on the floor to find his shoes and hastily prepared to leave. Stepping to the door, he smiled to her. "Back later!"

"Call me sometime, so I know where to send the ambulance!" she joked sarcastically, just before the door shuttered closed. Tessla knew that her father's compassion was beyond logic, and beyond dissuasion. She just wasn't sure if she'd ever see him again.

#####

On a hunch, Vash headed straight for the European Embassy. Before he could make it, however, he heard a great boom in the distance to his right. He hoofed it in the direction of the blast, mind blank, eyes tearing up from the air movement and emotion.

Finally he found himself - heart pounding, yet calm - staring up into thick smoke, surrounding a nice hotel. Within this hotel, several leaders of Parliament had been holding a secret emergency meeting. But the secret had slipped to several people, one of which had ties to the Labor Liberation Movement. A more extreme member of this group took advantage of the situation, and rigged up a simple explosive in ten minutes flat. The package was delivered in a catering box, and exploded as it was opened nearby the meeting table, killing all present. But there were many others in this hotel.

Vash, unaware of the cause and unwilling to wait for the distant sirens to arrive, pulled his jacket up to cover his head and dashed into the grand front door. He heard the faint voices coughing and calling for help, and no one else was there to respond.

He yelled and ran about, searching for victims. He found a few women and a man passed out behind the reception desk, mercifully alive thanks to the thick desk around them. Pulling them two at a time out of the building, he laid them on the cool sidewalk outside, checked for breathing, and rushed back to check the second floor. He managed to save three more people, two of them badly burned, from hotel rooms before he heard an ominous groan. Struggling to carry them all out at once (the burnt couple were rather large, so this was quite a task), Vash stepped outside and shuffled uncertainly. A second later, the floors were toppling down. Panting and crying, he heard footsteps of Fire Response personnel approach. He slowly broke into another run, towards another tower of smoke, this one possibly 6 kilometers away.

#####

He had long ago tired of pondering her reasons. It seemed no longer important why she had gone, only that she was gone. And her choice was maddeningly tempting.

Knives loved the plants, but it was a forced love. Like a human loves a god, it was built from respect, awe, and perhaps a little fear. Duty, pride, and this 'love' kept him in line. They needed his feeble help; his touch to their keypads. With such tapping he allowed them comfort and safety. Perhaps they actually appreciated it – he couldn't be sure. After all, the gift of Callisto's birth was perhaps more of a curse or an experiment than a gift. If she was his reward for years of hard work and distress, then an ironic reward she was, indeed.

And so, with his strife and thoughts he brought them entertainment. With flickers of light and warmth they toyed with him, or so it seemed. They could force him to speak of whatever they liked. Though capable of telepathy with him, they preferred to hear him speak, and to respond in such primitive and simple ways as light and heat. Why they chose such primitive means, he had no clue. Perhaps it amused them because it caused him confusion and discomfort.

Or maybe they did so because telepathy was too much. Knives' thoughts were often unpleasant to them, or so it seemed. And to know every thought that the plants possessed – if it were possible, would he want to hear it all? Would it drive him insane (for surely, it would take very little at that point to do so)? And - perhaps most important of all - would they want him to know what they were thinking? That would take so much fun out of this little game, for them, he surmised.

Like an actor on a stage in a vast, metal theater – or better yet, like a puppet on broken and breaking strings – he recited from memory human poetry, philosophy, and other such drivel. He was able to express his own emotions, but only when played through an interpretation – a melancholy prose when he longed for someone, or (as at the moment) a bitter, angry exposition when he was frustrated.

Pacing as he spoke, Knives' face was red and hot, words spitting from his mouth like fire. His heart raced as his words' intensity grew. Oh, he felt alive!

Coming upon a particularly poignant line, Knives jogged to the platform of a specific bulb and pointed his finger at the curled up mass at its core. "For you have ruined me, you have stoned me, and you will feel the guilt of my demise," he recited in a low, solemn tone. Blood rushed so fiercely that he was close to fainting. Pausing, he panted to regain his breath. The plant angels paused, aglow and warm, pleasantly waiting for him to continue.

Callisto's bulb didn't even change its output. Whether oblivious of the meaning of his recitation towards her or not – as always, she was enjoying herself along with the other plant angels.


	46. CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Transfer

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Transfer

PART ONE…New Wounds … 

Tears rolling down his face, Knives sat in his vast greenhouses. He rubbed a moist leaf with his fingers, pressed it into his flesh, growled with pain, and reached over for another. Pressing this one more slowly, he paused and sighed. He sniffled twice, and pressed this one alongside the first, along the knuckles of his right hand.

The blood stopped hours ago, not long after he punched the wall of the plant compound, but upon arrival to his home, he felt the lazy need to prevent infection. Considering that the insects wouldn't eat these leaves - and evidenced further by the sting he felt - he knew that the toxins in this plant would be just sufficient for disinfection.

Knives disinfected the large wounds on his hand because of the plants. And he had gotten the wounds because of the plants.

Often, screaming and reciting angrily at the bulbs did not alleviate his frustration. Sometimes hitting, breaking, or slicing things helped. Since nothing cried out when he did, it gave little satisfaction, when compared to his tantrums and slaughters of the past. Without the smell of fresh blood, it just wasn't the same. And when there was blood, the smell was only his own; it was rather disappointing.

Vow as he might to calm down, emotions were still as strong in him as the day she left, and as the day the lot of them left, before. He was not really isolated, and therefore his pain could never numb. Though this existence was lonely, he was never alone.

A few of the stray cats dashed past him, frolicking in the garden. Out of boredom, he allowed them inside his compound, and most lived within it now, feasting on the mice he populated the place with, which in turn fed upon decaying plant life. The cats ate and slept, buried their excrement, and had kittens in the bushes. Once in a while a cat would rub against him. They entertained him by running and playing about the greenery.

Wounds covered by leaves, Knives rested. He watched the little group dash back and forth, tumbling and leaping upon things. Peeling fruit, he sat still and watched.

He laughed aloud as they played.

#####

Pacing angrily around her apartment, Tessla's imagination ran rampant with possibilities. So what if her father told her stories, about escaping danger with his life intact numerous times? So what if he always managed to defy death? What made him think that here, on Earth, his heroics would never cause his end? And even if he just got hurt, why was it okay to make more scars on his poor, tattered body?

"Daddy, you asshole," she growled. He knew she hated it when he risked his life. Countless times they had argued about this, when he was taking assignments in bad neighborhoods or was readying to confront a known psychopath or violent offender. That stubborn father of hers refused to carry any sort of protection more reliable than a small canister of pepper spray. How exactly was pepper spray supposed to protect against actual weapons? She shook her head, sighing aloud. And how was it going to protect from whatever or whoever he was out confronting this time?

As she finally gave in to urge and went into the bathroom, her father stepped in. A trickle of blood ran down his face, he smelled of smoke, and he was hugging his right arm protectively. "I'm back, baby bear," he called softly.

"Argh!" Forgetting her bladder, she raced into the main room. Standing still in front of him, she crossed her arms accusingly and waited.

He cleared his throat, blushing a little. "…I broke my arm," he finally murmured. He winced, knowing she would yell at him for his disregard of health.

"Get your ass in the 'craft," she commanded, ushering him out the door. "We're going to the hospital."

#####

They had to stand and wait, for several hours, until a nurse became available. Tessla argued softly with them to let her follow, but since she would surrender no relation to this man, they told her to wait in the lobby.

"I'll be fine," he called behind him as the nurse rushed him to the back. Once in an exam room, he took off his shirt, as asked, and sat on the cold table. The nurse was eyeing his skin questioningly, but on a day such as this, she had no time to ask. She did a quick body scan and rushed from the room, promising test results in an hour or two.

Cold and embarrassed, Vash hugged his arm gingerly. He glanced about the room, wondering what wood the desk was made from, and what color, exactly, one would call that blue shade of liquid in the cabinet. Sighing and smiling for a moment, he reflected that his daughter was taking this well.

Snapping his head to the left, he reacted to a muffled scream in the room beside his. He bolted to his feet, but thought deeply before sitting back on the table. People scream in hospitals; it doesn't mean they need his help. The nurses and doctors were helping that person – he should just sit and avoid being a nuisance.

Taking far longer than expected, the nurse rushed back into Vash's room with a mini-screen and a pale expression. "Mr. Saverem?" she repeated, voice hoarse. "This isn't just about your arm, sir. You have smoke inhalation, a blood clot on one knee, and four hairline fractures in your shoulder. There's more, but we just aren't sure yet. An airlift is on the way. Please remain calm and disrobe completely, we're going to need to get you on a gurney, insert an IV."

He gulped, nodding. "But I feel fine…"

"You'll be sedated and airlifted to a more specialized facility," she continued, ignoring his comment. She sounded as if reciting something memorized. This just didn't seem real. "You're due on the roof in 15, so please don't waste any time."

He nodded solemnly. There was nothing wrong with him, besides the injuries she noted and some minor cuts and bruises. This was not a good sign. Maybe they found out…

#####

Tessla dashed to her father's bedside and walked alongside him as they wheeled him into the elevator. "I can go, too, right?"

Vash nodded, still not smiling. "But you shouldn't."

"What are you-" Her heart sank. "Oh." If they were letting her go along in the airlift, something was wrong. They had to know something big, if that were true. There was no way anyone would think she was his daughter without knowing they were plants – they seemed, after all, the same age in appearance. Even with treatments and surgeries of the day, such a thing was impossible, and signs would show up in a simple health scan besides. And their official records listed them as having no relation, and having similar ages. If they were letting her accompany him, they had to know.

"Run," he murmured, without moving his lips.

She shook her head. "Too late now," she responded, smiling emptily as she followed the staff into the hover-lift.


	47. CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Transfer part 2

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Transfer

PART ONE…Old Wounds … 

Tessla sat alone in a cold, pink room. God, how she hated pink. She hadn't worn that color for 70 years.

Staring at an irregular spot on the wall to her left, she sunk into her hard seat. The last time she saw her father was two hours ago, when they'd touched down on the airlift pad. They'd flown in on a hover lift with blocked-out passenger windows and a barrier from the cockpit. Judging from the time it took to travel, she guessed they were a fourth-way across the globe from liftoff in Asia. However, due to the manner of transport, their destination was a mystery. Even the platform they touched down on was within a high walls, such that the only view they had was a cloudy sky. The temperature outside was a few degrees above freezing.

The people in this building were dressed in dark, plain clothes. They were stern and spoke little. What they did say was enigmatic and vague, and English. The men and women took Vash's gurney to the elevator and made her wait. A few minutes later they let her exit the platform, but led her to this strange, little room – this disgusting, pink room.

She contemplated escaping. Having no idea what destruction she was capable of with her angel arm, she thought it illogical to use it in this situation. Her father could be nearby – she could hurt him. Plus, there could be weapons, guards, traps; they could be in a building on an island, miles away from civilization. She had to be patient. Though the situation was terrible, she decided not to act against these people and this situation unless she felt that she, or her father, were in immediate danger.

"Whoever picked this shade of pink is a moron," she commented dryly, assuming that someone was listening in on her.

#####

With a tube of oxygen up one nostril, a fresh, thin cast on his arm, and 31 new disinfectant bandages on various little scratches, Vash should have felt like a million bucks. But now, he somehow felt more like two billion double dollars…again…

Silence was broken by a woman who was clearly a psychologist. She sat and smiled.

Vash was surprised, but tried not to show it. He could tell already – she was far more skilled at her craft than the others he'd worked with. It was clear in the ease of presence she was giving off.

"I'm Rita Child. It's nice to meet you." She shook his hand warmly. "How are you feeling?"

He smiled goofily, attempting to play stupid, even in this extreme time. "Much better! When can I go home?"

"Pardon the delay. We're working as quickly as we can to get you healthy and back on your way. In fact, we've already arranged for your departure to Nippon."

"What about the bombings? Aren't all airports closed?"

"Yes they are. But our private hover lift will be available upon your departure. In the meantime, there are some things I'd like to ask you about. Let me know if anything I speak of makes you uncomfortable. Alright?"

Vash nodded. Why would they promise him a ride out of this place? Probably to keep him calm and give him hope – false hope? And what about Tessla? He felt it best to keep quiet about these fears until he could discern what she wanted from him.

After all, if they wanted him dead, they would have killed him by now. If they wanted to dissect him, they didn't need to speak with him. However, if they planned to imprison him, in a bulb or otherwise, or if they planned on removing his angel arm 'gate,' treating his wounds and making him feel comfortable would make sense. Why not gather information in the process?

"Well first off, we know," she stated, still smiling in such a genuine-seeming way. "You and Vanessa, sentient plants from Gunsmoke, migrated to Earth. Your daughter, Tessla, also a sentient plant, has been accompanying you around the globe since then. Both of you show no interest in politics or world dominance of any sort. In fact, your service to humanity, if a front, is a very convincing one. And Tessla's great leaps in invention have brought mankind's technology to levels hardly dreamt of a century ago. Are we correct in assuming that you are simply trying to live peacefully?"

"Yes," he squeaked. Had he lost a lot of blood somehow? He was dizzy, nauseous. "I love people," he whispered ridiculously.

Rita laughed softly. "Yes, you seem to," she replied warmly. "And so long as you allow us to implant tracking devices in your and your daughter's cores, and never allow output lest in self-defense, we will help you live peacefully, as you wish. Does that sound reasonable?"

Vash gulped. "Tracking devices? I don't know…If you change your minds later, who's to say you won't-"

"A valid point." She nodded. "We'll see if we can't take that little matter off the table. We'll know if you use your angel arms for ill purpose, and we'll stop you. Perhaps tracking is unnecessary.

"Now, on to the meat of the issue." She opened another file on her mini screen. "About Vanessa. You have never been contacted by her, since landing on Earth, correct?"

"Yes," he answered solemnly, shifting in his seat. "This is making me uncomfortable, though. You told me to mention that."

"I did. Would you rather I not continue?"

"Yes. I don't want to know anything she doesn't want me to know – she said it would be insulting of me."

"That's what she said to me, too." Rita sighed. "But she eventually changed her mind. Just a short while ago, she asked us to bring you here. She said, 'Just Vash,' but we felt it best that you not be separated from your daughter. Again, she changed her mind and agreed. Vanessa gave expressed permission to bring you two here and to tell you the things that I have and will say."

Resting his false hand atop his now-bandaged hand, he looked into her eyes sheepishly. "Man, I could really go for some-"

"Sushi. With donuts for dessert?"

"Honey…flavored…" That was the recitation with replies that he and Vanessa used back on Gunsmoke. Should they ever use a third party to communicate, that string of words had to be given. They'd never used it before. Before now. Though, if they had gotten the information from Vanessa, either by slip of tongue or (he shuddered) torture, this may not truly be a message from Vanessa.

Rita smiled. "That doesn't remove all doubt, though, does it? Well, to fill you in briefly on her past 90 plus years, she came to security on the ships, and demanded to be held. I'm sure that's difficult to believe. She offered herself as a plant, and demanded that her family not be contacted. They believed her when she claimed that she was the only plant, that Vash the Stampede remained on Gunsmoke. You didn't did you, sir?" She smiled, then continued. "Shortly after the ships' arrival, we founded an Agency to discuss, explore, and execute tasks for Vanessa. She worked with us to reconstruct the missing parts of her core, and became whom the public refers to as 'Agent Peace.'"

"She's dead?" he yelped, jumping from his seat.

Rita stood and rested her hand on his shoulder. "No, Vash. There was an accident, but she'll be fine. She's resting in this compound."

Vash sat, slowly. "So, you brought me here to tell me this stuff? Can I go?"

"Not yet. She asked that we tell you this information, and requested to tell the rest personally." She sat again. "Would you like to go now, or would you like time alone to think about this?"

"Can I see my daughter?"

She turned her mini screen towards him. Upon it was live feed from Tessla's room, showing her seated and unharmed. "Vanessa asked that Tessla wait here. She wanted you to speak with her first."

"I'm going to need 5 minutes," he stated plainly, eyes full.

Rita nodded. "I'll be back, then."


	48. CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Transfer part 3

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Transfer

_PART THREE…What a Pity …_

Vash drew his mouth into a tight line as Rita led him through hallways. Those five minutes of thought turned into an hour, and he still wasn't really ready to see her. Waiting any longer wouldn't have helped much, and Tessla was waiting, so he submitted to visit Vanessa, finally.

The fact that she'd had him flown in without asking bothered him. So did the fact that she hadn't told him anything until just then. Sure, he didn't really want to know, but still…why didn't she drop a line? He'd worried she was dead or worse, living a life reminiscent of Gunsmoke – afraid, battered, and paranoid. This was an entirely different reality. Here, it seemed she was a collaborator to perhaps the most concentrated and complete global policing agency in the history of Earth. Try as he might to ignore the issue of Agent Peace, it had always disgusted and enthralled him. This person killed so many, but only on those few occasions – a hundred or thousand times more lives had been saved by those acts. Agent Peace was doing what he only dreamed of doing – creating widespread peace – and nevertheless accomplishing it with means that Vash found horrific. Using threats of violence to curb violence? How barbaric! And yet, how effective!

Vash's nauseating mix of jealousy and anger was bubbling to the surface, for the first time. He felt himself becoming angry – very angry – and he was allowing it to happen. How could she!? His face tingled, his head pounded, and he shoved his free hand into his pocket.

So what did she want from him, now? What, after all these years, was she finally going to say, to do? She was injured, he guessed, so did that mean she wanted his help? Surely these people she surrounded herself with would help her better than he could. Did she want out of this Agency? Was she going to ask him to help her out?

Yes, that had to be it. She needed his help. Vanessa didn't want to kill people anymore.

#####

Vash's posture loosened as he faced the door labeled 'Patient 0012.' He was planning an escape in his mind, to get Vanessa, Tessla, and himself out of this place as safely as possible.

Rita stepped aside. "There are no cameras or sensors in there. You'll be alone. Just come outside the room when you're done, and I'll be here to escort you. Good luck."

Watching her walk away, he thought her offer of 'good luck' seemed odd. Taking a few deep breaths, he paused, and opened her door.

The room was without windows, solid white and empty, save for a soft chair next to a large, comfortable-looking bed.

"Vash," she acknowledged, with neither warmth nor bitterness.

He slowly sauntered to her bedside and saw her whitened eye and a lot of bandages. Little spots of bandages dotted her face, shoulders, and arms, which was all he could see. She was tucked into this bed with fluffy sheets, wearing a white tank top, hair in two long braids. There were black strands entwined in them.

"Are they keeping you against your will?" he asked quickly.

She laughed softly for a moment. "No."

His face began to tingle again. The anger rose and he found himself standing there, hand balled into a fist at his side, yelling at her. "What's the matter with you!? You killed hundreds of people! You abandoned me and Tessla, without telling us anything, and you went off to kill people and scare the hell out of everyone else!? And now you send your freaking buddies to get us, interrupt our happy lives, and bring me in here – for what!? You wanna chat? Do you want to gloat about the evils you've done? Do you want to talk about the old times, reminisce? Do you want to come into my life now, now that you've got a new boo-boo to kiss, now that I'm single? The nerve-"

"I abandoned you because you wanted me to, and so did Tessla!" she interrupted, speaking softly from weakness. She looked mad. "I didn't want to kill anyone, I wanted to prevent wars, and that's what I've done! And I don't want to make chit-chat! I'm sorry about Meryl, she-"

"Don't you, 'I'm sorry,' me! She was everything to me, she still is, and you don't know anything about her, so shut your mouth!" He stopped to breathe. Fighting back tears, he tried to stay focused. "You saved everyone from Knives, now you're saving everyone from yourself, and when you fail they die! This game you're playing with them has got to stop!"

"Vash, this is your dream, to-"

"This is NOT my dream, this is some bastardization of my dream where people only play nice because they don't want to get slaughtered! And when you take a day off work, like today, everything goes to shit because this isn't really morality! This is peace through fear! You failed, and people are dying! I saw their bodies on the streets, smelled their flesh cooking in fires! And you, you're all bundled up in your bed! You brat!"

His eyes were wet but he wasn't crying. He was so full of anger, but his words came out clear. His headache was gone. Vash simply stared through blurry vision at her where she lay, straight faced in a big bed. "Little children died in front of me. I had to watch that. I tried to pull this little boy from a bus that'd been blown up, I pulled him out by the arm as carefully as I could, but the skin on his legs was pulled away by the metal he was stuck underneath. Then he died! It's all your fault! You showed them your angel arm so they could 'ooh' and 'ahh' and pay your bills! You let them use you as a crutch to the governments of the world, and all the police and militia in the world relaxed a little bit, and the protestors shut up, but they only got angrier over time! That little boy, and all the rest, they're your victims. You have to live with that, just like I have to live with July. You set up this line of dominos, and now you can't stop it. Or maybe you can, but you're just being selfish."

He coughed. "You're a real piece of work. Tessla isn't going to want you back in her life, and I don't either!" Coughing, he had to stop, to catch his breath.

She lifted her cup of water to him with a shaky arm. Vash refused it, and she set it back down, exhausted. Turning glassy eyes up to him, she sighed. "So this is what you're like when you're angry."


	49. CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Transfer part 4

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Transfer

PART FOUR…Power … 

Waiting for him to calm down enough to listen, Vanessa frowned. "We could argue this forever, but let's leave it at that I couldn't be a wife to you or a mother to Tessla, so I gave you peace instead. I gave you money and peace. It's too bad you don't like the way I do it, but if it's any consolation, if I weren't doing it, someone else with far less patience and mercy would be."

Slowly, she attempted to sit up. Her arms shook with effort, but she was getting nowhere.

Vash bent over and lifted her by her armpits into a sitting position. He noticed that she winced as he did, because he had pressed several bandaged spots. Her face seemed awfully pale.

Vanessa grimaced but said nothing. "I gave you over 90 years of peace because I couldn't give you more than a year of love. You need lots of people to love and to love you – I should never be one of those people again. I was pretty fucked up when we loved each other, and I'm even more fucked up now, I can guarantee. And really, I am sorry about Meryl. I bet you loved her like no one has ever loved a person before."

His posture relaxed, and he slumped into the chair. It was really comfortable. "I don't want to talk about it. Especially not with you."

"Wow, I knew you would be bitter but I didn't imagine you'd be as irate as you are" she whispered, voice getting hoarse. She took a glass from the little tray on her bed and sipped dark purple juice slowly. "Fine, we won't talk about that. You're here because I messed up, and I'm not so full of myself that I won't admit that. They hadn't given me clearance yet, because they thought there were mines out there. And there were. I'm an idiot. I know. These are scars I'll actually be at fault about."

They sat in silence for a long time. He listened to her breathing and the hum of the lights. The chair was awfully soft. Vash glanced at the watch he wore on his left wrist. This was a waste of Tessla's time.

"I didn't know people used mines anymore," he muttered, trying to stay cross though his sense of compassion was overpowering his angst.

She nodded. "Last known serious injury by mine was over 40 years ago. But damn, the technology isn't lost." That didn't seem to be a joke.

Serious? All those cuts didn't look that serious. "Okay, I give, what happened to you?" he asked.

"Rita told you. It's something I don't want to talk about."

"She didn't tell me. She said there was an accident – that's all."

Vanessa looked down. "I told her to debrief you."

He didn't like being spoken to with such militaristic lingo. "So, what, Shrapnel shards? You have a lot of cuts to the face and body?" he assumed.

"Well, yeah, but I'm not normally this weak. I work out these days – it takes a lot to keep me in a bed for long." Hesitating, she pulled back her blankets. She carefully lifted a white, plastic sheet from her legs.

Vash's stomach churned. From the looks of it, her legs had been blown off. And by blown off, he meant violently so, since there were chunks of flesh missing from the wounds. The skin on either side of each wound was pulled and stretched far across to meet the other side's jagged skin, creating a very rough-looking ridge. The stitched ridge settled deep, within the flesh, such that there was an irregular valley approximately 8 inches wide on either leg. It reeked of disinfectant, meat, and blood.

"Severed and reattached," she mumbled, gingerly recovering her legs and setting the blankets into place again. She sweated now with the labor and gritted her teeth with the pain. "Didn't you have your thumb reattached, that one time?" she asked casually.

"Vanessa-"

"I don't want your sympathy. I don't deserve it and I don't want it." She blinked her eyes hard. "I need to go to sleep again, I'm going to faint. I'm missing a lot of blood.

"Let me cut to the chase. I'm not going to be able to do a whole lot for a while. I need you to substitute for me while I recover."

He tried to speak, but she held up a finger sternly, indicating that there wasn't time to argue. "In order to keep peace in my absence, we need a stand in, to display the weapon. That's all. You just show it and leave. You're just an inch taller than me, about the same size under the armor, so it will work. We have it planned out; we picked an area with no inhabitants, so no one can be hurt by it. Blow up this bit of mountain face. Then the killing will stop."

"That's ridiculous."

"Go speak with Tessla about it. No one will force you to do anything." She eased her way painfully back into a horizontal position. "Do what you think is right." She closed her eyes, pupils rolling up. She gagged a little; she felt like vomiting but knew nothing would come up. God, it hurt.

Vash watched her for a moment, mind blank. She passed out quickly, but whimpered softly as she lay unconscious. He checked her pulse. Finally, he stepped out of the room, where Rita led him to his daughter.


	50. CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Transfer part 5

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Transfer

PART FIVE…My Place in This World … "Baby bear, are you okay?" he asked, running into that pink room to hug her. He lifted her an inch off the ground, to spin around twice, then setting her down to check her over. "Did they do anything to you?" he whispered. 

She shook her head but frowned. "What's this all about?" Pausing, she turned to stare at Rita. "We're not getting any privacy anywhere in this damn place, are we? Whether you leave the room or not…"

Rita smiled warmly. "I can give you my word that surveillance will stop for whatever duration you'd like. But I doubt my word - or anyone else's – will do. We will, of course, give you both total privacy. Communicate telepathically if you'd like," she suggested, stepping away from the room. The door shuttered closed, heavier than the medical room's door.

Tessla rolled her eyes. "We don't DO that, bitch."

"Honey, she wasn't being mean to you, there's no need to curse at her," Vash suggested softly.

"Nevermind her, tell me what's going on, daddy!"

Vash looked around for a seat and took one, waiting for Tessla to reassume her place upon a chair. "It's complicated, baby bear."

She narrowed her eyes. "Everything's complicated, daddy. Spill your guts."

Clearing his throat, Vash's eyes wandered around the room. "It's about your mom."

Tessla's face began to pink. "HER!? We're here because of HER!?"

"I know what you mean," he muttered. Meeting her eyes finally, his expression became serious. "Don't get angry yet. Wait till you hear the whole story: She's Agent Peace and she wants me to substitute for her while she's recovering from having her legs blown off and reattached." He stopped to catch his breath.

Sputtering for words, Tessla's face deepened to a brighter shade of pink. "Buh…so…wha…she…She wants you to…"

He nodded. "If I blow up this one mountain, dressed up in her costume, everyone will know Agent Peace is still active and all of this chaos will end," he added solemnly. His own cheeks pinked and he stared at the lines on the floor. "I'd have to use my angel arm."

"That's out of the question!" she roared. "She ought to know better than to ask you to do that! You just CAN'T use it anymore - your hair, and the memories, and-"

"I know, but maybe I need to 'man up' and do this," he argued, still facing downward. "Even if I don't want to, even though I absolutely disagree with what's going on here, and what Agent Peace does…They just can't cause Agent Peace-like damage on a large-scale without me. They need a plant," he explained, remembering what Rita had added to Vanessa's information, as he and she had walked to Tessla's room just a few minutes before. "And after I do it, everyone will behave again, and we can live our lives without fear. They've known about us almost this whole time we've been on Earth," he murmured, amazed still.

"You think you could do it?" she asked him, incredulous. "I…I just don't think you could handle it. The pain, the past, the power it'd sap from you…"

"Baby bear, even if it killed me, that'd be worth all of those lives."

She didn't reply. Instead, she stood and sat on his knee, wrapping her arms about him and burying her face in his neck, like when she was little. He felt her tears tickle as they fell. "I don't want to lose you, daddy, you're the only person in the world that I love," she sobbed in a weak, muffled voice.

Hugging her back with his good (fake) arm, he tried to comfort her. "Sweetie, you're all grown up! You don't need your daddy so much anymore – you're going to be 98 soon. One day you'll find someone you really love-"

"And ten or twenty or ninety years later he'll die," she sobbed miserably. "But you aren't going to die unless you mean to."

Vash's heart dropped another couple of notches. Even if you only get a day with them, it's worth it," he mumbled sadly.

"Is it really?" she asked, pulling away to look into his tired eyes. "It hurt so much to watch you lose her; I can't imagine the pain of it, to lose…Loving a human just doesn't make sense," she reasoned, sniffling. A fat tear fell from her eye and she itched its trail as it rolled away. "You're strong enough to do that, daddy, but I'm not." Another thought hit her, and she turned from crying in sorrow to crying in frustration. "Why can't we find plants to love instead? How come the only plant you found was such a crappy one? Is God playing some stupid-ass joke on us, that we're so alone?"

Vash sat, thinking. He was crying, again, now. It was completely heartbreaking to hear her talk like that. "We're not alone, Tessla," he replied, voice cracking. "I like my life…"

"Daddy, you're emotionally masochistic." It was a bad joke, but it did make him chuckle ever so slightly. "You're not really happy, you're just too damn nice to complain," she noted, sliding down onto the floor, to sit with her head resting on his knee. She gazed up at him. "You need a place where you can do your community service stuff and actually see results – you need to be able to use your compassion on a larger scale," she muttered, staring off as her mind raced. Yes! She had it, the answer to their dilemma!

"So, now you DO want me to blow up the mountain…?" he asked, confused. She could change her mind and chase new ideas so quickly and unexpectedly sometimes…

"Hell, no. So, what did she say to you?" she changed topics.

"Not that much. I was pretty upset, so I did most of the talking," he responded, blushing.

"What did she look like?"

"Um, pretty cut up. Her legs looked…really awful. I think she can see now; her one eye has a thick cataract or something, though. Other than that, she's the same."

"Did she act the same?"

He sighed, relenting to appease her curiosity. "She seems more relaxed. Maybe that was painkillers. I don't know. She isn't feeling well."

"Did she apologize?"

Vash opened his mouth to scold her, but paused. "Well, um, actually, yes, she did. She apologized to you, too, for not being a good mother," he said softly.

"…And for running away?"

He shook his head. "She said we wanted her to."

"I did," she agreed. "You know, I really can't believe she had the nerve to ask you to blow up a mountain. I really can't. What was her reasoning?"

Vash seemed to be growing impatient. "I really wasn't in there that long, you know? She knows I CAN blow up a mountain; maybe that's why she asked me. And baby bear, I really ought to get to that mountain, or else more people will die," he added, hiding how miserable he felt with a false smile. "I'll be back as soon as I can, but now I have to-"

"Yes, let's get to the mountain," she interrupted, standing and brushing dust from her butt. "…So you can watch me blow up a mountain."

#####


	51. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Contentment

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Contentment

PART ONE…Boom … 

Stepping into the middle of a valley, two heavily clad black figures approached the mountain face. One knelt, and the second sat beside, on the right. The second put gloved hands around the first's covered forearm. They sat still. Suddenly, a light burst forth and a high-pitched screech filled the sky.

Everyone watching paused in awe. There was a mass of boulders and pebbles where the mountain once stood.

The second black figure stood slowly, with the first dangling from his shoulder. They slowly made their way back from the vehicle from which they'd come. The vehicle sped back to the landing site and was lifted away.

Screens worldwide broadcast varying views of the event. Many broke into discussions of new technology, and the possibility that this was a new Agent Peace, or perhaps this time two new 'Agent Peace's had been chosen. Some religious stations dove into the old debate of how this technology was clearly blasphemous, while a few fringe networks praised the angelic power of this event.

Aside from the millions of arguing, praising, angry, relieved, joyous, and frightened voices, there was calm.

XXXX

Seated in a window in their spacious home, a mother and son stared off at the dust and rubble of the mountain two miles away.

The five-year-old son yawned. He fell back into his mother's large arms and smiled up into her face. "Mama, was that mountain a bad mountain?" he asked in German.

"No sugar, but he volunteered to help."

He thought. "So he got blowed up so the bad guys wouldn't hurt nobody no more?'

She smiled. Her boy was so smart. "That's right!"

"So, the Peace Lady only hurts the bad guys?"

She laughed. "The Peace Man, you mean…"

Hee sighed, shaking his head.

"The Peace MAN is good. He makes the bad guys be good," his mother explained.

"Thank you, Peace Lady," he called out, waving out the window before hopping down to find the dog.

XXXX

Vash wanted desperately to remove their helmets, but had to stick to protocol. "Baby bear?" he asked though their speakers.

"Thanks, daddy. Couldn't do it without you," she added, smiling. Without his help in forming the arm, and controlling it, that little display wouldn't have been possible. It'd been so intense; she was still awestruck. It hurt, but felt exhilarating all the same. "Man, I'm pooped."

Vash shifted to allow her to snuggle in next to him, awkward as the suits made this. He wrapped his arms about her and stared out the window, struggling his intense inner struggle. Worrying about his child and this world, he weighed philosophy against morality against duty. He felt the stress of the world upon his shoulders once more.

XXXX

Tessla stepped out of the hover lift, onto the roof with the high walls. This time around, it was a joyous event. A great mass of people (and though many members of the Agency were there, not nearly half could fit) were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, in silence. Slowly, they moved aside to allow a path for the two black figures to walk through.

As the mysterious two eased their way to the door, a man shouted, "Thank you!" A few more repeated this, and then the wave of celebration washed over the crowd. They applauded and cheered, smiling and laughing, hugging each other but daring not to touch the black figures.

Tessla smiled fiercely within her helmet, striding towards the door with a newfound energy. Inside, she was met with more thanks and praise, and rushed to a medical room. There, she and her father removed their helmets in silence.

Vash did not share her happiness. He was frowning, for certain. Once he met his daughter's eyes, he forced a smile, but it was too late. "Good job, baby bear," he softly praised. "You stopped it."

She furrowed her brow. "Sometimes we have to use questionable means to get the desired effect." Easing off her heavy, thick suit, she squinted as the ache hit her. "Isn't it possible that the angel arms are part blessing, part curse? Does it make any sense that we'd be born with these, but never ever use them for a good reason?"

"Maybe you're right," he murmured, slowly sliding off his gloves. His posture was terrible. Staring at his busted cast, he seemed deep in thought.

"This is why you shouldn't be the one to do it. But me, I think I actually WANT to do it. I feel like I'm helping, really helping. I mean, I can still invent, on the side. But with this I really see results! It's so hands-on, so intense. It's so purposeful."

"You sound like someone I once knew," Vash responded forebodingly.

"Who, Uncle Knives?" she asked, laughing. "But I don't hate the humans, daddy. And with training and proper precautions, her accidents won't happen to me. I know the risks, I know the hardships, and I want to take them. I'm awfully tired of pretending to be human, hiding my projects and selling them to others. Maybe being a plant is the best way for me to feel human. Does that make sense?" She smiled, trying to comfort him. "I want to do what's best for everyone."

He sighed miserably. "Now you sound like someone ELSE I once knew!"

She stuck out her tongue in disgust. "Am not! What'd SHE ever do for the good of the many? Get pregnant? Pssh."

"Tessla Rem Saverem, you know what happened; we told you. She sacrificed a lot to get those ships in the air," he explained, bothered a little by the memories.

"What a heroine she turned out to be." Sitting back into a plush chair, Tessla pulled on a sweater. "To my understanding, her list of sacrifices are as follows: Giving up her secret liar, coming on to Uncle a lot, leading him on some more – all the while coming on to you as well – then when Uncle found out he was being two-timed, he killed a bunch of people and kidnapped her. She sacrificed her eyes and face to get him to angel-arm-transfer memories and plans to her, but she didn't mean to get scarred up from it, so that doesn't count. Then, she drugged him and left him alone in a hospital – like the moron she is – only coming back after he killed a bunch more people. After that, her sacrifices were that she was pregnant and gave us money from her paintings. I am not her and if I say anything like she did, I assure you I mean something different."

"She's not a moron, she was trying to do what she thought was right," he tried to argue, half-heartedly. "Give her more credit than that. She's your MOTHER."

"Hardly! Don't call her that! And y'know, I always thought she did it less because it was right, and more because she felt guilty about how she lived before she met you. And I'll just bet her motivation had a lot to do with you – she did it to get YOU."

He drew his mouth tightly shut. "Tessla, I'm tired. Why don't you get some rest."


	52. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Contentment part 2

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Contentment

PART TWO…It'll Take More Than That to Heal Me …

As Nurse Chopper began work on a new cast, Vash sat in thought.

The previous, broken cast was ruined from angel arm use. Since the thing had coated his core with a rigid layer, it splintered and plumed out when he'd formed his weapon, touching it to his daughter's arm core through their suits. In such a manner, they had demolished a mountain.

Chopper had been told that Mr. Saverem's cast had cracked and been removed. He was the same who had put on the first, and still would not be debriefed about Vash's 'special status.'

When Chopper looked up, Vash smiled. Once the man began to work again, Vash turned his head and stared at an anatomical chart screen moving on the opposite wall. He wondered about what Tessla had done, and had said. He wondered about what Vanessa had said and done, as well.

Could it be – did Vanessa do it all for him? Was her selflessness for his own good, and not for mankind's good, as he'd previously believed? If this was correct, then what of his life with Meryl? After all, it was possible that Vanessa had found out about Vash's feelings for Meryl back on the ship – perhaps even earlier. If so, she could have left so that he would be able to have his relationship with Meryl, without guilt.

And he had. Because of Vanessa's abrupt, cold departure, he had felt very little qualms about loving Meryl and living out his life with Meryl as if she were his wife. Maybe, too, Tessla would have had Vanessa as a mother if Vash hadn't indirectly rushed Vanessa off. If he hadn't fallen for Meryl, would he and Tessla and Vanessa have become a happy family?

If wrongs ought to be righted, was this vision of a happy plant family still possible?

Imagining this in his mind, he had trouble making it fit. After so long, after all they'd gone through, he just didn't have feelings for her. Or did he? Maybe this confusion and frustration he felt towards her now, after so long an absence, was his clue of newfound attraction?

He resolved to meet with her again, to find out.

Shuddering, Vash felt a strong chill down his spine. He began to feel nauseous again.

"Did that hurt, Mr. Saverem?"

"Oh, no it didn't, Chuck," Vash replied sheepishly. He certainly wasn't going to answer the nurse with the real explanation for his chills, so he lied. "I guess it's because it's cold in here."

Nurse Chopper returned to Vash's propped arm, and sealed the last piece of the cast. Standing upright, he addressed his mini screen. "Well that's that. Hopefully this one will last you until the break heals!" He paused. "And, you know, it is pretty cold in this building – it's not just you. It kind of reminds me of stories of The Gunsmoke Immigration. I heard that those people came from a planet so hot that, once we got to them, whenever they got the chance, they'd set their AC's on high. Funny, huh?"

Vash forced a smile. "Gosh, sounds weird."

XXXX

Knives awoke slowly in his shack, covered with layers of blankets and woven mats. The cats that snuggled atop him as he slept (for warmth, in the dead of night) now stretched and leapt to the ground. A pair of orange-striped, tabby cats began to mew for breakfast, and one black and white cat scratched at the greenhouse door.

"The first sun JUST started to rise, you fat asses," he grumbled. Yawning, he peeled off the layers and stood. He reached over to unlatch the door to allow the three cats to flood into the greenhouse. A rush of warm, wet air hit him. The cats found a hidden spot in the first greenhouse block to relieve themselves. Then, racing away, they hunted for breakfast. Knives knew that he would see them again that night, but the countless other felines within the vast greenhouses would remain deep in foliage, perhaps iles away, rarely ever seen.

Within the greenhouse, Knives walked about nude, swatting at – but carefully trying not to kill – the various insects that landed upon his skin.

Next, he went to work releasing water. He'd come up with a fairly efficient system, mainly automated, to make short work of the iles and iles of greenhouses that needed watering daily.

To complete his morning chores, Knives showered in the greenhouse, had breakfast, and brought a meal to the cat barn outside (though most felines had chosen to live in the greenhouses by then, many still remained in the barn, stupidly).

He hitched up the tomas cart and rode off in a cloak. Yesterday was rough, with the full day's load of plant adjusting and unexpected breaks in four minor water lines in the greenhouses. Luckily, today's work load was lighter – he was tired.

XXXX

The next two weeks were very busy ones at the Agency. Tessla was busy training, in isolated and very top secret areas. She was always accompanied by her father, for reasons both protective and helpful. Until her arm stabilized, through repeated use and training exercises perfected years ago with Vanessa, Tessla needed Vash's gate to control her blasts.

Whenever she fired her angel arm 'beam,' Vash turned his head and closed his eyes, refusing to look.

Days passed, and Vash kept busy with his daughter, working with her both on the field and in the office, reviewing the newest caseload and being debriefed constantly.

Though he was dead-set in confronting Vanessa a second time, he was unable. She was resting and healing, slowly, in isolation. Whether because she didn't want to see him or because she was advised against it, he was not permitted access to her room.

"Not today, but maybe soon," Rita always hopefully, helpfully told him. "She needs more time. We think she'll be able to speak with you in a few more days, once she's up to it."

Coincidentally (or not) Vash was kept so busy by the Agency that he had little time to ask about meeting Vanessa or let his mind stray.

In addition, these walls and cold rooms were stifling. He was promised a home wherever he liked, no matter the length of commute, once he'd been cleared. But how long clearing took – he had no idea.

Vash promised himself that he'd find a place with a lot of little kids, when he was finally cleared. It'd been so long since he'd played with kids!


	53. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Contentment part 3

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Contentment

PART THREE… Sad Excuse for a Life … 

Cold granite stones led Vash up the cliff until he found himself facing a dome-like, camouflaged building. Hands in his pockets, he swiveled at the waist, looking around at the plant life. The only sounds for miles were from birds, insects, and the wind. One didn't often get the chance to be in such an untouched, isolated place. This was a sign of money, of power, and of paranoia.

"Vash," she called out, sitting propped against a huge oak. Her legs stuck out awkwardly in front of her, bound and screwed into support braces. Old-fashioned crutches lay nearby, as did a little blanket with a basket and a few bottles of water atop it. She wore a zippered jacket, unbuttoned and open mid-way down her chest, a purple shirt with a low neckline underneath. She couldn't wear pants, for obvious reasons, so she had a khaki skirt draped over her braces, to her knees. And of course, she was barefoot.

"It's warm here," he mentioned absentmindedly as he walked to her, still glancing about nervously. "Back in Asia, it's winter."

"Yes, it is." She folded her hands in her lap and watched him, hoping he wouldn't insist upon further small talk.

"Your injuries look like they're healing well. How are your legs?" he asked, sitting Indian-style against another large tree, several feet across from her.

"They hurt. And they itch like hell." She reached over and tossed him a bottle of water, sipping at a large packet of juice of her own. "Tough hike, huh?"

He drank. "Yep."

After a pause, she stopped sipping the juice and stared at him again. "So what did you want to talk to me about? You look so serious," she asked simply, proving that her sight in one good eye was sufficient to read his expression. "I hope this isn't about the philosophy of it all. I don't feel like arguing it right now."

Scratching his head, Vash sighed. "Yeah, I know. No, it's not that. I want to know about…I want to talk to you about the things you've never told me. Like, what was going through your head when you turned yourself in, on the ships."

"Well…" She sighed, remembering. "I was thinking that to stay with you was a waste of emotion and time," she admitted. "Tessla hated me, and I didn't know how to be her mother; it just felt wrong. And once I realized that you wanted to act on your feelings for Meryl, I knew what I had to do. It would have been selfish of me NOT to leave. I knew that you were happier without me; you didn't try to find me. I'm not mad about it." She shrugged. "I guess I was right."

Vash frowned. "You shouldn't run from your problems."

"When they're problems you can't fix, you SHOULD run. I think things turned out the best way they could, and I'm happy about that."

"So what do you want, out of life?" he asked, voice rising a bit.

She stared at him for a moment before laughing a little. "Are you serious? Well, of course you're serious – you're Vash. Ok, then, what do I want out of life: I want to never be helpless to another, I want to never want to be hurt in a way that is not fair, and I want to avoid hurting others in ways that aren't fair."

"What's fair? How can someone hurt someone else 'fairly'?" he asked, perturbed.

"If one goes into a situation knowing full well that something bad can and probably will happen to them, then if that bad thing DOES happen to them, it's 'fair.' Getting hurt in war is 'fair,'" she added, gesturing to her legs. "On the other hand, if one enters a situation innocently expecting to be unharmed, it is unfair for someone to knowingly hurt them. For instance, when I was with you on the ship – I made you miserable for things that you had no control over. I hope to never hurt anyone unfairly again."

"Yet you're willing to hurt hundreds on a whim."

"I thought we agreed not to argue the philosophy of the Agency!" she growled, rolling her eyes.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Sorry. Okay. So, um.." Clearing his throat, he took a deep breath and just said it: "When did you stop loving me?"

Vanessa stared into his widened eyes as she thought, then looked down to curl some grass around her fingertips. "I don't know," she murmured.

"What day did you wake up and think, 'Wow, I do NOT love Vash'?" he asked softly.

She chuckled nervously. "That didn't happen."

He watched her fiddle with the grass, holding his breath. Did she mean she GRADUALLY stopped loving him, or that she never stopped loving him at all? How was he going to get her to clarify that without leading her on? "I just guessed that you realized it the day you left. Or, maybe a little sooner."

"When did YOU realize that you didn't love me anymore?" she countered.

"Um, I suppose I realized it once you were gone. I…"

"You didn't miss me," she finished for him, knowing he wouldn't admit to it aloud.

His silence confirmed it.

"And when you saw me last month – saw what's happened to me – it makes sense, now, doesn't it," she continued, pulling the fresh, mountain air deep into her lungs with a few slow breaths. "That your love for me was more compassion about my scars and pains than about an actual romantic love, huh. I'm not insulted; I should've known."

"I don't think that's true," he muttered, narrowing his eyes plaintively at her.

Vanessa looked up, somewhat surprised. "Really? Oh, but I'm sure it is. I don't think you can accept that, though. And that's okay, too. I can live with that. You were awfully nice to me; I don't feel cheated." She laughed sadly. "You're the one that ought to feel cheated."

"Well, I WAS pretty mad at you for things you did," he responded, uncrossing his legs so that he could lean forward to hug his knees to his chest. "But I wasn't cheated. We had good times together, and I'm grateful for what you did with Knives, and for giving me Tessla…"

She nodded slowly, and smirked before letting her face relax to a calm expression.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, what have you been doing on Earth? Besides the Agency stuff, I mean," he asked warmly, feeling a bit of the weight lift from his shoulders.

"Not too much," she admitted. "I paint a lot, but mainly I keep to myself. This world is so fast, and busy, and full. I guess I'm slow to change. I read a lot, too."

He nodded, smiling slightly. That sounded depressing.

"I've been confused for a long time," Vanessa began, enigmatically. "But I'm working on things – I think I'll get things where I want them soon." With that, she brightened, offering Vash lunch from her basket.


	54. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Scattered Rain

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Scattered Rain

PART ONE…Hidden … 

One after the other, Vash popped Vanessa's sushi into his mouth, chewing each slowly, quietly. It was weird, eating her prepared fish again. It still had the same texture and unique flavor as did her sushi a century ago, in her cave on Gunsmoke. Glancing up, and back down, he reflected on how cold and squishy it was.

Vanessa also ate in silence, pulling the cold fish bits up with wooden chopsticks. Her pieces were milder than his, and not cut as carefully or elaborately. As always, she cut the best sushi for him.

Staring at the empty water bottles at his side, Vash cursed his thirst. When he was nervous, he drank a lot. "Excuse me," he murmured, standing. "I have to go to the bathroom." He immediately walked into the woods, looking for some distant tree.

"Wait." Hearing a rustling and soft groan behind him, he spun to see Vanessa struggling to stand, scooting her body roughly up the tree's bark, positioning and repositioning the round feet of her crutches.

"Um, I can find a place myself, you just wait there," he called. But she didn't seem to hear him. A light bulb went off in his mind – "Do you need to go, too?"

She grunted through her teeth, face warm with effort but hidden from his view. "Well, yes, but that's not what I was going to say," she muttered.

"What?" he called, still standing twenty or so feet behind her.

She hobbled over to her camouflaged home. "Come inside and use my bathroom!" she yelled over her shoulder.

Pausing for a while, shoulder sloped down, Vash wondered. He wanted to call out his reply, that he'd rather use a tree. But she was already on her feet and struggling towards her door. Attempting to be gracious and helpful, he accepted, rushing over to her. "Need help?" he asked, eyeing the wall, wondering where the shutter was.

With that, the door shuttered open as if from nowhere, leading into her stone-floored, vast room of a home, with its high glass ceiling.

"Bathroom's across, left of the kitchen," she instructed, slumping her armpit onto a crutch so that she could point to it.

"Woah," he whispered, in awe, as his eyes panned the room, feet stuck in place. There were so many things painted here, with such vibrant colors.

Rolling her eyes, she laughed. Slowly stumbling across the stones, Vanessa worked her way to the bathroom herself. "I'll go first, then."

Vash began to walk along the wall, eyes darting to and fro, taking in the beautiful work. Landscapes, animals - there were a great variety here, all executed in sharp and blurry focus. All of it was lovely, and he edged his way around at a speed just slow enough to see it all, and just fast enough that he could look at the whole perimeter of paintings before she came back.

A large, gray wall space greeted him on one side, as he walked. It seemed as though paint had been scraped away from the surface, pulling off whatever was painted here. Little shavings and larger chunks of the discarded paint lay at the base of the wall.

He continued shuffling around the room, past the kitchen.

Maybe he'd taken her work for granted back on the ship. After all, things were a daily drama there, and he saw her paintings constantly. Or maybe she'd improved exponentially over time, and these paintings were simply far better than the ones before.

Another interruption in the wall stopped him. An expanse of blue fabric was covering a large area, much the same sized area as the scraped-off part. The fabric was pinned down at the edges, tugging at his curiosity. What could it be? He reached out like an innocent child, and put a finger under the cloth edge, leaning his head in. With one eye open, he peered under the edge, lifting it ever further. It was dark, he couldn't see. Maybe if he could unpin an edge and look…

"Ahem."

Jumping, Vash grabbed at his chest. She had startled him terribly.

"Your turn," she choked out softly, face pale, gesturing towards the bathroom door. Vanessa slumped into the opposite doorway, leaning for support, and watched him enter through the corner of her eye. She pretended to be looking up into the sky, but was trying to read his face with what peripheral vision she had.

Once back outside, Vash sat against his tree and waited, gritting his teeth, as he watched her slowly and laboriously sit at hers. Finally, he took his chopsticks back in hand and began the meal again.

Panting with the effort, Vanessa's body relaxed. "Vash, you know how I told you that, all these years, I tried to give you all the privacy I could? Well, can you please try to return the favor?" she asked, more patient than angry.

Blushing, Vash nodded. "Sorry. I couldn't help myself."

She nodded, smiling. "I understand."

For the remainder of their meal, and for several hours after, Vash entertained Vanessa with stories of his community work and travels. It seemed Vanessa hadn't explored many of the more interesting areas of the globe – just the ruins and museums in a few main areas like Egypt and Europe – and she was very interested in what he told her. She read it all before, but his take was enlightening nonetheless.

The reason for their sudden comfort and relaxed conversation was due to the curtained painting. Vash was impressed with her calm reaction to his attempted invasion of privacy, and also knew how important it was that she was willing to let him into her home – her '2nd cave.' And Vanessa relaxed because she felt at ease with Vash now. He hadn't seen the paintings that she didn't want him to see, and he seemed fine with her secrecy. Also, she'd been able to learn from his actions and expressions, indirectly, about his feelings for her.

Vash found himself content with their standing.

Vanessa wasn't completely content yet, but she knew she would be.

XXXX

Tessla smiled at the hologram blueprints swirling in 3-D in front of her. "Perfect."

She'd spent all day on these, while her father was away. The device's design was complex – completely one of a kind. Surely this was the only such model she'd ever make, and that was best, considering what it was for.

Leaning back into her chair, Tessla's broad smile narrowed. Closing her eyes, she laughed softly. "This'll solve it, daddy."


	55. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Scattered Rain part ...

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Scattered Rain

_PART TWO…World Peace…_

The Agency's plans worked out, with Tessla's help. World order was reestablished, and Agent Peace's work was broadcast more frequently than before. There were more legitimate requests coming in, and the public's past mistrust and doubt of Agent Peace's abilities seemed to be put to rest for the time being.

With Agency backing, Vash became a silent partner in a new string of charities and rescue groups, under the umbrella organization name 'Love & Peace,' to assist with refugee traffic, education, medical assistance and disaster sites. He was thoroughly busy every day, and between advising his daughter and planning for his group, he had little time to think. Plans were underway to transfer some of Love & Peace's leadership to other professionals, to allow Vash more leisure time. He really wanted more time to himself, and time to play with the hordes of pink-cheeked children running outside of his Kyoto apartment. Heck, he'd only even been to his new home a few days in the past four months!

Tessla was just as busy as her father, working heart and soul on the Agency's projects. She worked diligently, with plenty of sarcasm and eye-rolling. But though her attitude was crass and often immature, she proved an intense agent; remarkably calm about her work.

Vanessa visited the Agency often as time went on, especially in the past two months.

She walked with an acute limp, and still had deep grooves in her tissue around the reattachment areas of her legs. The braces had been unscrewed from her bones, but she still wore loose skirts about her waist to allow the wounds fresh air.

When she came to the Agency, she sat in on meetings between Tessla, Vash, and the main three Advisors, but rarely said a thing. After those meetings, she'd stay and speak with Tessla alone. Both women requested that Vash leave as well, and he obeyed, never learning why.

Vash often wondered about these conversations that the estranged mother and daughter held once a week, but knew not to ask. It was none of his business, he was sure.

As for himself, he rarely spoke with Vanessa, except to ask how well she was recovering. She'd been very vague about it lately, and talked about entertainment and weather instead. He tried to be ready with a new joke each time he saw her, and was usually able to get a chuckle from her.

Vash wondered when Tessla would come home with him. But he just couldn't ask Vanessa when she thought she'd be able to come back to work for good.

XXXX

"It's finished," Tessla finally confessed, a devilish little smile creeping upon her lips. "Would you like to see it?"

Vanessa felt her heart fall. She breathed deeply to calm herself. "No. Not yet – I don't want to see it until it's time."

"I think next Tuesday would be ideal. You'll need me there for the initial steps, and I really don't have much time before then."

She nodded. "And you haven't told your father a thing?"

Tessla looked hurt. "How many times do I have to tell you?" She huffed, leaning back and crossing her arms. "No, I didn't tell him anything; he doesn't know. I don't want him stepping in at the last minute, either, so I'm not telling him until it's irreversible."

"Good," Vanessa replied, nodding solemnly. "He most definitely would want to stop me."

"God knows why."

Sighing, Vanessa didn't respond. She had become accustomed to Tessla's snide comments. It was the girl's way of dealing with her abandonment issues. Sometimes it was better to ignore them than to argue with them. "So kind of you to feel that way," she murmured, faking a smile.

"No problem. You know, I don't hate you anymore. If I still hated you, I wouldn't have made it for you. I wouldn't be helping you now."

Vanessa smiled and relaxed a bit. It was good to hear. "I thought so."

"But don't think you can, like, hug me or anything," Tessla added, sticking out her tongue in disgust. "You're still not my mother."

"I know."

They sat in silence for a moment, thinking.

"Thank you," Vanessa finally admitted.

"You don't have to thank me," Tessla countered, laughing softly. "This is for the best. Both for you and for me; and for daddy. I admit I don't hate you anymore, but I also certainly don't like you enough to do you any big favors!"

Vanessa laughed. This dark sense of humor was at least genuine. "Thank you nonetheless, ok?"

Tessla nodded. "No problem."

Inwardly, Tessla's mind was buzzing. As she watched Vanessa hobble out of her office, she paused. Once she was alone, she leapt from her seat and did a little 'happy dance.' Then she sat back down and rested her head upon her arms on her desk.

Finally, she'd make things right for everyone. Whether Vanessa ended up liking what her device would do with her or not, Tessla knew would like the result. Her plan for the device's irreversibility after reaching stage 4 was impeccable. She knew that no one - neither her father nor Vanessa - could stop it after stage 4.

A sharp smirk spread across her face as she pulled up her mini screen and scanned the day's casework. She wondered what life would be like, once her plan was complete.

XXXX

Across the universe, Knives felt a chill. The fine blonde hairs at the back of his neck stood at attention. Had his brother shot off his angel arm again? He had no way of knowing.

This was a feeling he hadn't felt for many decades. More than once, he'd surmised that Vash was dead, but knowing his brother's pacifistic attitude, this was probably not the case. After all, even if the humans succeeded in killing Vash, Knives knew that Vash's angel arm would involuntarily manifest to attempt to protect him. And whenever Vash used his angel arm, Knives felt confident that he would get a hint, as he did before. Therefore, when he could not sense his brother's gate at all, it must mean Vash was safe, not needing to protect himself with the arm.

But now – was Vash fighting a war? Why was he activating his arm so frequently? They were very frequent for a month, and then tapered off into less and less common events. And then, as abruptly as it began, the chills stopped. This chill was the first in many months.

And now – was Vash in battle once more? He could scarce imagine what horrors his twin must be enduring at the hands of the humans. Or rather, he COULD imagine it.

Knives had a vivid imagination.

But the more chills he felt, the less anger he could muster at them. He began to accept it, that Vash's conflicts were his own fault, for placing himself in that situation.

His anger was less than it was a hundred years ago, but it was still present. Knives still plotted to end mankind's reign of terror over plants, no matter how few or many plants they were terrorizing presently.

Knives scratched the goose bumps at the nape of his neck and stared into the clouds above, squinting, as he rode across the desert. "Vash, you bumbling idiot," he yelled playfully.


	56. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Scattered Rain part ...

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Scattered Rain

_PART THREE…Nerves …_

Knives had felt sick all day. Worry consumed him, though he had no more a clue than the chill before. A million thoughts flew around in his mind, such that he had vomited up his breakfast hours ago.

Last night he was fine, but since the second sunrise his stomach had felt as though tied in knots. He had assumed the trouble was Vash's own – but couldn't it be one of the plant women, instead? What if little Tessla - whom he'd never met but loved nonetheless – what if she was in danger? And Vanessa…

Sweating, Knives curled into a ball on the plant complex floor, cold and metallic as it was. "Vanessa…" he creaked.

Perhaps he was sick from this migraine – this incessant pounding in his frontal lobes. This was the worst he'd had since he was a child. The migraine began softly last night, and only awoke in full a few hours ago.

The wave of nausea subsided slowly, and Knives lay still as his body relaxed. "What have they done to you now, Vanessa?" In his mind he imagined the scars, the numerous scars. He wanted to kill a thousand humans to avenge every scar upon her. Perhaps one human per scar tissue cell. That would be fair, he thought casually, doing a bit of math in his mind before another throbbing wave of headache pain caused him to tense once more.

Hissing through his teeth, he waited for this one to leave him.

Sighing after it left, an idea struck. "I'm thinking too hard."

Moments passed, and throbbing began.

He lay gritted teeth, panting, waiting for it to pass. Slowly, he sat up, and only minor discomfort caused him to wince. "Yes, I'm thinking too hard."

"Stop worrying," he chuckled to himself. "Vash is a victim of his compassion. Tessla is fine; Vash wouldn't let his offspring suffer. And Vanessa…"

Looking up at the bulbs, Knives laughed aloud.

"She's fine, isn't she?" he yelled to them. "I must give her more credit – she can take care of herself! If she could outsmart me…and Vash…She's smarter than those humans."

Pleased with himself, Knives stood, and went off for lunch. He kept one eye squinted in a constant wince from the headache.

XXXX

Vash leaned over his bathroom sink to examine the little scratch on his cheek. He unwrapped the bandage.

"It's okay, Akim," he'd reassured. "You didn't mean to."

It was just another battle scar – but this one was from a little boy, who played with him regularly. They were chasing each other around a playground, playing tag. Yomiko tagged Akim, and Akim ran after Vash, since he was well-known to be the easiest one to tag. Akim climbed up the jungle gym after a squirrelly Vash, and flew at him to tag him. But Vash had slipped and Akim knocked into him, scratching Vash's cheek along an edge of the slide. It was an inch and a half long cut, and it hadn't bled much. But Akim had cried a lot.

"It doesn't hurt," Vash insisted, giving the sniffling little guy a hug. "I'll put a BandAid on it and I'll be good as new! I'll even play tag tomorrow!"

"You better not break that promise," Tsuki demanded, stern with her little hands balled up at her sides. "Or else I'm gonna give you a wedgie again."

Vash held up his hands defensively. "Please - No!"

He'd left soon after, to clean up the cut.

After the bandage was applied, he smiled full in the mirror. He was happy.

Pouring himself a glass of apple juice and grabbing a banana for a snack, he plopped onto his big old couch. The wall screen hummed softly as it rose to light, displaying an animated program at the moment. But an icon blinking in the corner indicated that he had a message.

"Mail," he stated, and the wall brought up the message, in plain text. Vash leaned forward, his banana falling limp in his hand. "What's this…"

XXXX

'Dear Vash,

'Thank you for being so kind to me. Thank you for your love, your attention, your patience, and your humor. Thank you for giving me a chance at motherhood. Thank you for convincing me of my past wrongs, and for encouraging me to make them right. My attempts at penance have been misguided at times, so I can only hope that the ends justified the means.

'We couldn't have guessed that things would turn out as they have. People always say that. Whether fate or chance, we have met up again and I was glad to see you again.

'I was nervous. Nervous because I thought you may not forgive me, and nervous because I knew Tessla would be even less pleased to see me. But you both handled things better than I'd expected, and you've given me a sort of closure that I am not deserving of.

'A part of me – the selfish part – wanted you to love me again. After all, you are the definition of the perfect man, by human standards at least.

'But you deserve better than me. I hope that one day Tessla can invent an immortality serum so that some human you love can live as long as yourself. Maybe then Tessla could love someone, too.

'As for myself, I know that there is no one here for me. Everyone here is either too flawed or too perfect to be with me. And I'm tired of being alone all the time.

'I am tired of this life. Tessla has agreed to take over my position; she really has a knack for it. I'm retiring from the job.

'And I think I'll retire from life in this world as well. I don't think I can stand another day here, pretending to be several things that I am not, putting up with everyone's fear and disgust every day.

'I don't belong here; I've never belonged here, and I have no plans to stay. You'll probably try to stop me, but it's too late – there's nothing you could have done.

'Tessla has assisted me, to ensure that I go as peacefully as possible; but don't be angry with her. I made her do it.

'Thanks, again, Vash. You deserve all of the happiness that Earth can give an individual. May your life be long and full…and peaceful.

'Goodbye.

'Sincerely,

Vanessa.'

XXXX

The wall screen was still on, displaying animation again. The banana was on the floor collecting carpet fuzz, and the apple juice sat on the table, collecting condensation. Vash was gone, already aboard an Agency hover craft, bound for the main compound.

His own words from the a hundred years past echoed in his mind:

'Suicide? I disapprove of suicide more than anything!'


	57. CHAPTER NINETEEN: Thank You and Goodbye...

CHAPTER NINETEEN: Thank You and Goodbye

"Please, where is she?" Vash demanded at the Agency Reception Desk, stern, but trying to be polite. "Where are they?"

"Mr. Saverem…" the woman began, looking worried.

Her superior stepped forward and nodded to the receptionist. "It's alright, you can tell him. See, it's after fifteen hundred."

"Mr. Saverem, they're in holding bay twelve," she explained softly.

"Thank you," Vash muttered absentmindedly as he ran off.

Corridor to corridor, he dashed through the labyrinth of the building, counting down from the rooms. "Sixteen," he whispered. "Fifteen."

"Fourteen. Thirteen. TWELVE."

The door shuttered open uneventfully, and Tessla smiled up at her father. Vash ran down the catwalk to the bay floor.

Grabbing his knees for stability, he crouched down to catch his breath. He glanced about, looking for a piece of equipment out of place, or a figure prone in some way.

"Daddy, what happened to your face?" Tessla exclaimed sadly, rushing to him and checking his cheek.

"Where is she?" Vash panted, ignoring her trivial comment. "Where's Vanessa?"

Tessla helped her father to his feet. "She's gone, daddy," she explained, smiling. "It was quick."

Vash saw her glance at a particular bit of equipment across the room, hidden in the corner. Rushing to it, he saw that it was out of place, unlike the other crafts and devices in the room. He felt its surface – it was warm.

"…Just a shell!" he heard Tessla shout, missing the other things she was yelling, out of pure shock.

Wildly pressing at panels and decals, he tried to open the thing. It was sort of conical, with 'feet' of sorts planting it to the floor. "How do I get it open," he murmured, tears falling from his eyes at last.

Tessla was now approaching him calmly, sticking her tongue out cutely. "Why would you wanna open it?" she wondered aloud. "Kind of pointless."

Vash whirled around to face her. "Tessla! Pointless!? Argh!" he yelled, frustrated beyond belief. He was sobbing. "How could you!? How could you!?"

Sighing, Tessla reached out to hug her father. "Everything's fine now. This is what she wanted."

"How…How could…"

Tessla felt his hot tears on her shoulder. "Daddy, it's ok. Really. It's ok now."

"How can you say that," he whispered, muffled.

She chuckled. "Didn't you get her note?"

The sobs got heavier. "Why…Vanessa…why…"

"She told you why, in the note, didn't she, daddy? You DID get her note, didn't you?"

"Yes, I got the note," he grumbled. Attempting to compose himself, he sniffled, eyes red. "Open it for me, please," he insisted, stepping away from her and gesturing towards the device, 8 feet tall at its highest point.

Rolling her eyes, she tapped upon a panel nearby. With a hiss and clang, it opened at the center, a circular door lifting to expose a dark center. She watched her father step inside slowly and survey the inside.

"Where is she!?" he called out bitterly, his voice echoing from the surfaces inside. Ducking his head around the entryway to look back at her, he narrowed his eyes. "Tessla, where is Vanessa?"

"Daddy, she's GONE." Tessla was growing impatient. Why couldn't her father just accept it?

"But where's her body?" he asked, sobbing again.

"Her…body?"

"She should be…buried…properly…"

Tessla pursed her lips, brows furrowed.

"For God's sake, Tessla, your mother deserves to be buried!"

She began to laugh.

Vash's sobs interrupted his words. He slid down onto his rear, sitting limp on the floor. "You…and…her…and…how…could…you…help…her…kill…her…self…?" he squeaked, nose dripping.

Tessla held her sides as she laughed, tears rolling down her cheeks as well. "Daddy, take a chill pill! This isn't about suicide!"

Vash sobbed miserably.

"So THAT's why you're crying! No, she's not dead, she didn't kill herself. I helped her leave, that's all!"

He peered up at her miserably. "What…?"

Laying her hand on the warm surface, Tessla smiled. "This is the launch pod. It's the shell of the craft. She's way, way, deep in space by now," she pointed out, eyes to the open sky above her. The bay's ceiling panels were retracted.

Vash had misinterpreted the note. She was leaving the planet! He stood, hugging Tessla more calmly now.

XXXX

Vash found confirmation of her choice in her home. He visited there with Tessla later that day. He was pleased to see her face light up when she saw the art work, in spite of herself.

The curtain was crumpled on the floor below the painting it had concealed. A face stared up over Vash's head, causing him to pause in contemplation. Then it hit him – her decision was clear and he felt no mistrust. She was doing something dangerous, but understandable, he supposed.

He vowed to live that life she'd wished for him, and left smiling, arm in arm with his daughter. They visited the camouflaged home of paintings often as years passed.

The most striking wallspace was the previously curtained part. It was the best portrait Vanessa had ever painted. This image of Knives was impeccable.

XXXX

Stepping into the innermost greenhouse, he felt refreshed from his shower. Knives grabbed a towel to dry his hair, then pulled on his patched jeans. Something caught his eye from the far doorway of his shack. Turning, he stood calm. He'd seen many such visions before. "Hi, Vanessa," he called solemnly.

She lifted her head to look to him. She'd been turned away to give him privacy, since when she'd first peered into the greenhouse he'd been walking into it nude. "Sorry," she called, standing upright and smiling. "I really can't have kids, now. But I wanted to come and see you, anyways. If you don't want me around without the promise of plant babies, you can just kill me. I'm fine with that," she rattled off, reciting something she'd gone over many, many times on the long ride to Gunsmoke. She smiled again, warm and honest.

Knives stopped rubbing his hair with the towel and walked towards her. His legs seemed more and more shaky the closer he got. Finally, he stepped a few paces in front of her and stood still. His eyes welled up with tears.

"The humans didn't do anything cruel to me. And Vash and Tessla are fine, too. Tessla's policing Earth now, keeping mankind in check. The parasites you hated so much – they won't be acting very destructive anytime soon." Vanessa grabbed for his left hand and squeezed it with hers. "You've been busy, huh, Knives?" she asked, waiting to be struck down with blades.

He just stood there, dumbfounded. His eyes were weary. "Vanessa?"

She nodded.

Knives looked deeply hurt. "How could you-"

"I know, but I couldn't come back and give you the chance to make your plant army again, so I had to-"

"How could you think I'd hurt you?" he asked. "I'm not going to…kill you…"

They stood in silence for a while as Knives' mind absorbed the situation. "So…are you going back?"

"Neither of us ever are."

He nodded, staring down at his hand in hers. There were the scars – so many scars, but they didn't sting him quite like they once did. Something was odd.

"Are you hungry?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, kind of."

"The tomatoes and cucumbers are ripe this week," he murmured.

"That sounds good," she replied, smiling. "So, um, are you still planning to kill the humans?"

He peered over to a tree. "I haven't been thinking about that for a while now. I guess I'm not planning on it, no."

"That's good."

He took her hand in his and paused, wondering what to do next. Dropping her hand, he remembered how he'd forced her to hold his hand in the desert. "Sorry."

She took his hand in hers again and nodded. "It's ok, now. This is different."

Knives stared into her face for an awfully long time, causing Vanessa to break into little snickers.

Finally, Vanessa gestured at the vast foliage around her. She'd seen the massive acreage of greenery upon descent. Clearing her throat, she peered up at him warmly with her good eye. "I like what you've done with the place."


	58. CONTINUED

This story is continued in MY DESERT GARDEN


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